A Rider's Heritage
by Sirius7
Summary: Karigan's father has kept many things from her. This is just one more on an ever growing list.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: None of the characters you recognize belong to me. Kristen Britain can – with justifiable pride – call them hers. I've just taken them out to play, free of charge, and only temporarily, at that. If KB wants any of the characters or plot ideas expressed here (for some strange reason), she's welcome to them, as they wouldn't exist without the world she created. Anyone else has to ask before they borrow one of the OCs.

As for why I'm posting this story when I thought I wasn't going to... blame LdyDarkStr. It's all her fault. I'm just hoping that the formatting uploads correctly.

Timeline: The main body of this story picks up a few weeks after High King's Tomb. There _are_ spoilers for all three books, so consider yourself fairly warned. The prologue is several years prior to the books.

A Rider's Heritage

by: Sirius7

_Prologue:_

Stevic came into his daughter's bedroom to find his Kariny keeping silent watch. It wasn't the first time, nor did he think it would be the last, but there was something odd in her stance now. This watch of hers… was something more than a worrying mother. He'd stood similar watches, but not like this.

"They were too close this time, Stevic. Far too close." Her voice was soft to avoid waking their child, and he followed suit with his reply.

"But they didn't succeed, beloved. You saw to that. They've never been able to get past you, and Marcus and Aria are every bit as dedicated to keeping her safe. You know that." Moving closer to his wife, the former pirate – turned merchant – reached out to hold her to him. That his voice was quiet had not lessened its certainty, and he saw that she had perceived it… but that _she_ was not so certain.

"It will not be long, dear heart, before I can no longer protect our Little One. I've called Sevraen. We'll weave a spell about her, to protect her… to hide her from everyone, including herself, until she is able to see to her own defense. It's the only way, Stevic. As much as I wish I could be here to see her grow and wed… I know that I will not. I've seen it. The spell will activate with my death."

"Kariny, don't do this. Don't make this a certainty when it isn't. I won't let it be. I am not supposed to outlive you. She has to have someone guide her who knows the ways of magic and the power that she holds; gods know, that isn't me. If you've hidden her away, who will teach her to use the strength she has to defend herself? Who will teach her if you're gone, Kariny?" His words were pleading, desperate, and he knew that the look in his eyes was no less so. He could not begin to imagine a life without her; his mind was set against even trying.

Her eyes – those eyes that were also their daughter's – met his, already grieving. "I cannot change what I see, Stevic, but do not think that I will make it easy for them, that I will take a deliberate misstep… do not think it. The future is not yet written, and these are shadows only… but they are shadows that I must plan against, for our daughter's safety. If I fall and these protections are in place, then she will be safe. If I _do not _fall, the spell will not activate, I will teach her myself as she grows, and she will _still_ be safe. But if I fall, and have not taken these precautions, then our daughter, our hope, will follow soon after, and that is _unacceptable_ to me. Beloved, I cannot leave her unprotected."

Stevic, not having the words needed to persuade her away from this course – and not being able to fault her logic – just held her tighter, tucking her head under his chin. Hoping his love would be enough to ward off the shadows that haunted her, he pressed a gentle kiss to his wife's hair and breathed in the scent, memorizing anew everything that made her Kariny.

_Several months later_

She felt the shadow of death come near, and looked at the one she knew would be the end of her. With a smile that would have warned off anyone else, Kariny joined the battle whole-heartedly, knowing that no matter the end, her daughter would be safe.

"I had not thought treason to be in your nature, Nephew."


	2. Chapter 1

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author Notes

Note: I realized recently that I had placed Corsa in Adolind Province, instead of L'Petrie. That is now corrected. You have my most sincere apologies for the error.

_Chapter 1 _

With the Captain in administrative meetings throughout the day, and Mara still on light duty, it had fallen to Karigan, once again, to advise the King. Despite the conflict in her heart, she rejoiced at the sight of him. Yet, something in this day had her uneasy – indeed, she'd felt it for the past _several_ days – and it had nothing to do with the fact that the man she loved belonged to another.

Having found the Captain distant and knowing the King to be forever beyond her reach, she kept her own counsel for the moment, though should this shadow linger any longer, she _would_ tell someone.

A commotion at the back of the Hall drew her attention away from her thoughts and the petitioner standing before the King. Astonished, she watched a boy – no more than five – swiftly and with great agility wind his way through the crowd, heading in the direction of the dais. Slipping easily past grasping hands, between legs and over feet, he wasn't letting anything stop him. The same could not be said of the two older children – neither over eighteen – that had been detained by Weapons at the entrance.

"Noah."

Kari could see that her whisper caught the King by surprise. She hadn't even realized that she'd said anything until his head turned in her direction. In an instant, she was off the dais and in the midst of the crowd.

"Noah." This one was louder, and her little cousin's head turned toward her just before he uttered a desperate, forlorn cry and threw himself into her open arms Kari saw only a glimpse of his bruised face and haunted eyes before he buried his head into her shoulder and sobbed.

"Karigan?" The King's voice was soft, and she realized with a start that he had stepped off the dais as well, and come so close to her that only she could hear the way he said her name. "Who is the little one?"

"Noah, Sire. He's my cousin… and, being here, is quite a few days' journey distant from Corsa. If your Weapons would be so kind as to let his companions come a little closer, I would like to find out what's going on."

King Zachary, in his own curiosity, went one step further than what had been asked of him, and in but a few moments, the Hall was clear of all save the three youths, the gathered Weapons, the King himself, and the Rider who held his heart. In seeing the two older youths, she realized why it was the Weapons had stopped them, why they were even now being viewed as a threat. They had come armed.

"Aidan, Lise… this is not how I thought I'd be seeing you. I want to know what's happened to bring you here, but first, the Black Shields would appreciate it if you surrendered your weapons." Karigan smiled at them, happy to see them, despite her fear of the news they may carry.

Aidan, the elder of the siblings, was the one to answer Kari. "Ours we have given without question, Chieftain. The one they wish now is not ours to surrender, but yours." He tried to raise his arms and offer her the wrapped bundle in them – clearly a sword of some sort – but he was halted by a nearby Weapon.

Karigan straightened even more at what those few words told her. She felt something in her break at the title by which she'd been addressed, but she would be damned if she showed any weakness here. She would scream, cry and rage later. Now was not the time.

Karigan looked at Zachary, who motioned the Weapons to step back from the boy, allowing Karigan to move closer to him. Stepping up to her childhood friend, the Rider reached out a hand to undo the ties holding the wrapping closed. For the first time since the start of the commotion that had drawn her attention, Karigan took a close look at the weapon Aidan had kept, even under threat of the Black Shield blades. It had never been belted to him; the one that had been his was currently in Weapon hands. She let her eyes travel down the great sword, still in its sheath, and when her eyes lit on the hilt, the force of the memories that hit her nearly took her to her knees. In truth, only the thought of the child in her arms prevented it.

"It seems there were many things my Father didn't tell me… more than I could have imagined. Sire, what I must do now may seem strange, but I ask your indulgence in this. I promise you, it _is_ important." Her eyes met his in silent affirmation of that promise. A simple nod was his only answer.

"We will need Arms Master Drent for this… likely Fastion and Captain Mapstone, and possibly Mara. I don't know. These two," and she nodded at Aiden and Lise, "are threat to neither King nor Country. You may let them go. As for the sword, it could do no harm in their hands. Neither of them would be able to draw it."

Karigan, torn between holding Noah even tighter and reaching for the sword before her, chose to follow neither path, and instead asked Aidan and Lise for a few details. The King, meanwhile, had had the foresight to call for a table, chairs and food.

"What happened?"

Again, Aidan was the one to answer, though he looked nearly at the end of his endurance. "We were attacked… the reason for it escapes me. The Chieftain received word from a member of the Watch that a great host of armed men approached… and it was quite clear they were not there for the Festival. Chief Stevic asked for more details, and heard something that let him know this was no show. I don't know all of the tale, only that a half-hour after he had heard, he had my father gather all of the children, and told the oldest of us that it was our task to take the little ones to Lord L'Petrie. To Lise and myself, he gave a second task. Get this sword to you. 'Get the children to L'Petrie,' he said. 'Once you've done that, take the two swiftest horses of the ones I'm giving you now, and take the sword to your Lady. Ride fast, and _don't look back._'"

When he paused, Lise continued, neither youth noticing when Drent entered the Hall and chose to listen several steps from the table, the Captain entering only a few steps behind him. She caught the gist of the story quickly, and Karigan noticed her consulting her gift frequently. "We didn't want to go," Lise said, struggling to find the right words. Like Aidan, clearly she had gone as far as her body could take her… and then she had pushed herself beyond it.

"We argued with him. We had been trained by our father and were more than old enough to fight for the Clan he'd chosen. We wanted to stay. It was our father who stopped this disagreement. Speaking quietly, he told us that we were not to argue with our Chieftain in this, that those who were coming would take no pity on children. He asked us if we wished to leave the Clan's children defenseless. When we said no, he told us that we must then take the children away from the fight, and that if we stayed, none could be trusted to see the children safe. That's how I knew. Our father – _both_ of our fathers, Lady – did not think the chance of survival to be high. We left with the children, but when we were heading away, we disobeyed our Chieftain's order. We looked back. Looked back and saw our father defending our Chief… looked back, and saw them both fall."

Zachary's PoV 

Zachary saw Karigan's face pale, and fought the urge to hold her as tightly as she was holding her little cousin. The little one had refused to be parted from her, and it was something of a maneuver for her to eat her dinner… yet, she'd never rebuked the child, or forcibly separated herself from him. Hearing the confirmation of her father's death seemed to make her as unwilling to be apart from Noah as Noah was to be apart from her.

While they had eaten, the strange sword had not remained unguarded. In fact, the sword-belt was set about the back of Aidan's chair. _The only logical place,_ Zachary thought, _as Aidan takes his task seriously, and Karigan seems reluctant to touch it as of yet._ _Or rather, she prefers to entrust the sword __to Aidan and hold her cousin to herself._

"Please, continue if you feel able," Zachary said, upon noting that Lise had fallen silent and Aidan had yet to resume the tale. He was careful to keep his voice patient, though that was the last word which could describe him at present. Concerned would work, as would furious, and he felt an almost blinding need to discover the identities of the attackers. A deliberate attack on one of _his_ Clans, on _his _people, would not go unpunished. He would have felt the same rage regardless of who had been attacked… that Karigan suffered as a result of it only made it hurt more.

He had seen Drent and Laren enter, and noted that though both listened intently to the conversation, the Arms Master's eyes were focused on the sword… almost as though he recognized it. As tempted as he was to make Drent tell all he knew, that would have to come later. These two members of Karigan's Clan – whatever was left of it – would have to tell as much of the tale as they could tonight, and while he had no wish to make it an order to the exhausted youths, he would do whatever he must to coax it from them.

"There's not much more to the tale, Sire," Aidan said as he took up the story again. "We took the children through the woods, finding shelter in the trees. There were times when I could almost swear we were being watched by someone… guarded, but I could see nothing. No one disturbed us, and we could discern no one following. We made it to Lord L'Petrie's estates, and he showed no hesitation in welcoming the children. We made quick work of getting them as settled as possible in the situation, and Lord L'Petrie offered us fresh horses and provisions for the journey here. Our intention was to have Noah stay with the rest of the children, but that notion didn't suit him. That one said that if we did not take him with us, he would find a horse of his own and follow. If any five-year-old could do it, it would be this one."

"Somial asked… nicely." The little voice caught the King by surprise; he'd thought the child was asleep.

"Noah?" Karigan's curious tone asked the boy for more of his own story, gentle and coaxing, giving no hint – as Zachary had given none, earlier – of her impatience.

"Somial and his _ten, tien, tiendan_ – that's it – watched over us. Said there weren't enough of them to stop the traitors, but they could help us escape. Somial stuck close to me when no one was lookin' and told me to give this to you." His hand held out a small leather bag, and Karigan showed no hesitation in opening it. _She trusts Somial_, Zachary thought. _And she has been given reason._

Peering into the bag, a brief hint of a genuine smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and from the bag, she poured into her hand a wealth of moonstones. This, the King knew, was a precious and unprecedented gift. Karigan had mentioned that there were stories of mortals being gifted with _one_ moonstone on occasion, but he counted at least five in her hand now, all of them blazing brightly. From the size of the bag, he would wager that there were at least twenty more. A single tear found its way down Karigan's cheek, and despite the audience, he could not stop himself from reaching out to wipe it away. His Rider, as tired and grieving as her companions, apparently lacked either willingness or strength to stop him.

She lifted her head and whispered a thank you before slipping the moonstones back in the bag. He knew without question that wherever she went, she would have them, and couldn't help but feel relieved by that. So long as she had a moonstone, she was never without protection.

The King saw Karigan's eyes move to meet Drent's. Quietly, she invited him to join them, and Zachary's pointed look turned the request into an order, though Drent was not likely to have needed it. Zachary then invited the Captain to a place at the table; it was almost as though Karigan did not see her… or, at least, that Drent's presence was more critical at the moment than Laren's.

"Arms Master Drent," Karigan said, her voice hinting at a history with which Zachary was not familiar. "Some time ago, there was a Weapon serving here by the name of Ryn. While she served, an extra banner flew above this castle, a banner that signified her willing service to Sacoridia and Queen Isen. It's time for that banner to fly again."

"Rider, that banner flies only when one of her line serves… and her line died with her daughter."

"It didn't die, Arms Master, but was merely hidden… even from itself. I say again, fly the banner."

His gaze flicked to the sword, and though the King wasn't certain what he wanted, he could tell that Kari knew. With a troubled look on her face – and one that was slightly resigned – she rose from her chair, setting Noah in her place. Leaving the boy with a kiss to the forehead, she walked around the table until she came to Aidan's chair… and the blade.

Lifting the entire swordbelt from his chair, Karigan drew the weapon to her, letting her fingers trace over the odd markings on the sheath. Pressing an almost-reverent kiss on the hilt, she wrapped her hand about it, and drew the sword. The motion was smooth, uninterrupted, and when complete, she brought the blade to rest against her forehead, kissing the base of the blade as she had the hilt.

"Kaedra's Blade is drawn. Kaedra's Blade is bonded. As the Blade's wielder, I call for the Sacor Three. If ever there was a time their light was needed to battle the darkness, that time is now. Fly the banner, Drent. You remember the order." Karigan's voice was an echo of another's, the words not quite her own, but Zachary, looking at her eyes, knew that she had _taken_ them as her own. There was no hint of Shawdell's menace in that echo, as there had been when Amilton stood last in this Hall.

Her words were followed by the distinctive sound of several blades being drawn from their sheaths, and Zachary glanced about the room, prepared to halt his Weapons from attacking a Rider they now viewed as a threat… only to be treated to a sight he had never seen. All of the Weapons had stepped from the shadows and drawn their blades, as he'd expected… but the blades were not raised in aggressive fashion. They were raised in salute. The look of utter shock on Mapstone's face – a sight nearly as unfamiliar – testified to the fact that she, also, had never seen Weapons behave in such a manner.

"I do," Drent said, verifying the order of the banners. "Sacoridia, then Hillander… then Deisaria."

"No, Drent. Sacoridia, Hillander, _Coutre_, then Deisaria."

"But…"

"Sacoridia first, Drent."

At this point, Zachary wanted little more than an explanation from his Rider… but he wanted it without the benefit – or hindrance – of an audience. At a nod from him, Drent left the room, and one by one the Weapons sheathed their blades again, Karigan following suit shortly thereafter. With a word, Zachary called a servant to direct Aidan and Lise to their rooms, and Karigan had convinced Noah to sleep in her own room, where he would find some comfort among her things.

Alone, save for the remaining Weapons and his unusually silent Rider Captain, Zachary turned to Karigan to request an explanation.


	3. Chapter 2

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author Notes

_Chapter 2_

_Karigan's PoV_

A bevy of memories running through her mind, the length of the day, and the news… that earth-shattering news… conspired to make it impossible for Karigan to remain standing, despite the presence of the King. Holding tightly to the sword Aidan had kept safe for her, she returned to the seat that had been hers during dinner. When she realized her hands were shaking, she only held the sword tighter. This evening wasn't over yet.

_The Blades have to be bonded, and my King wishes an explanation, but how do I explain this when I'm not even sure I understand it? How could she make me forget, and why didn't my father tell me? My clan is gone, and though Aidan did not say it, I believe the attack was not aimed at my clan for its own sake. The attackers wanted me, and were it not for Estora's kidnapping, and the Captain's reluctance to allow any time off for the Riders at present, I would have been at the Festival. They wanted me. And Zachary, Zachary… it would have been much kinder never to have known what I know now. If I needed to know, why couldn't it have been before Estora's betrothal to him? Drent knows, and will not let it lie. Coutre, once he becomes aware of it, will not remain silent, and may fulfill old threats… and a Sacoridia divided cannot stand against Mornhavon._

"Karigan?"

"Sire, I know you want an explanation, but please… please let it wait just a few moments more. Drent should return soon, and what part of the tale I do not know, he would, for the Weapon Ryn – my _mother_ – was his teacher. I suspect he would have recognized me as her daughter instantly, save for three things – he thought I was dead, the spell my mother and uncle wove to hide me still worked… and green was the one color my mother never wore."

"No," Drent's voice echoed from where he had re-entered the Hall. The two, Rider and King, looked at the Weapon, who carried a large box with the same care he would have cradled his own child. "No," Drent repeated. "She reserved that color for her twin, a Rider… and a Swordmaster in his own right, one Captain Mapstone called friend. You come by your skills honestly enough. How much of the tale have you told?"

"None of it, really. How, in the name of all that is holy, do I start?"

Drent's smirk told her that he was very close to answering, "At the beginning." Thankfully, he didn't actually voice the comment.

Karigan shook her head. She would have been annoyed at Drent had she the strength for it. "It's still not entirely clear in my head. Drent, if I miss something, feel free to speak up. You know how the Great War ended, Sire, and how the D'yer Wall came into existence. Throughout the War, the one who was the King's beloved and partner in all things – she who became his wife and Queen, was ever and always by his side. After the War, recovering from injuries that had nearly been the end of her, physical and emotional, it was only Jonaeus who pulled her through. He would have no other beside him, no other as wife, partner, mother of his children. And Sacoridia itself would tolerate no other as Queen. So long as she lived, it was Lil Ambriothe or no one, and Jonaeus had no intention of letting her die just yet. Even the gods, it was said, had interfered on one particular night, to prevent the menders from hastening her to an end she did not wish, in the guise of bringing her peace when they thought she could not be saved." Here, Karigan paused for a moment.

"If my journey back in time was by the gods' design, I do not know, but at least now I remember that she did not die that night. Time, however, was short if they wished to defeat Mornhavon using the information Hadriax had brought them. When she rose from her sickbed to plan and act in that last battle, it was much against the advice of the menders. She was not fully healed… and the final battle took its own toll from her. Great, it was… but not fatal."

_Zachary's PoV_

Zachary found himself nearly mesmerized by the sound of Karigan's voice, but he shook it off to listen to the details. He'd known of Kari's role in saving Lil, but hadn't been aware of any details of the final battle she mentioned, and he had the feeling that she was avoiding some details even now. _Why? What doesn't she want to tell me? Or is it simply that she doesn't remember it all? And why am I hearing about this only now?_

"Karigan, why…"

"Why didn't I tell you before? I remembered none of it. They kept it from me to protect me, but far longer than they should have. They wove a spell about me that would lock the memories behind a door in my mind that I wouldn't even know existed, and few things could break that spell. My father telling me would have been one of those things, my grandfather's face another. The third is the one that actually _did _shatter it. I remembered the instant I laid eyes on my mother's sword, that had been her mother's before her. I still don't know all of it… but were my father alive now, we'd be having a very long talk about what he kept from me. This, in fact, is just one more thing on an ever-growing list."

Though Zachary wanted to know more, a great deal more, he could tell that Karigan was holding on to her composure by sheer strength of will alone. She would not break while in the Hall, he knew, but she would need to grieve, and he would not let her do it alone.

_Damn Coutre for his threats… and damn me for bowing to them. Estora, though lovely, has a different kind of strength than is needed now in Sacoridia's Queen, and she is no more happy to be betrothed to me than I am to be so promised to her. I will not let it stand. I _cannot _let it stand._ Zachary feared his eyes would reveal everything he was thinking to those who knew him best, and could only regret that Laren had come so quickly to the Hall. The slip in the mask had to be obvious to her.

The King heard – from where, he was not certain – an odd, compelling humming. _Is it humming or is it singing?_ He shook his head slightly, but still it continued. Looking to Karigan, he saw the beginnings of a slight, rueful smile on her lips.

"You can hear it, can't you?"

"I can hear something, though I'm not sure what."

"Let me go to the next bit of the tale," she said, "and it will make more sense. Captain, you've been… oddly silent. Are you alright?"

"I am, I suppose. I should have recognized you the first moment you set foot in the Hall. Your face is your mother's, and both she and your uncle had those eyes. How could I not recognize you as Sevraen's kin?" The consternation on the Captain's face was plain, though the King thought there seemed to be more troubling her than this revelation of Karigan's past.

"You didn't recognize me because the spell prevented it; no one was meant to know… not even me. Where was I?" she questioned, taking a moment to think back to the First Rider's tale. "Lil survived the Final Battle, though injured, and despite the work of rebuilding Sacoridia, seeing to the construction of the D'yer Wall, and the many other matters that demanded Jonaeus and Lil's attention, they still managed to find time to have children – four of them, to be precise. The first child was actually _two_ – a boy, Veran, and his sister, Kaedra… yes, the same one for whose hand this blade was crafted."

Zachary saw Karigan's hands shake, and reached out to her. He saw Laren's look of disapproval and ignored it. He knew that some – Lord Coutre among them – could view this as a breach of propriety. He also knew that none in this room would mention that breach to anyone. He was not holding _her_, though he wished otherwise… just her hands, and temporarily, at that. It was a simple, comforting touch, and he would not allow anyone to deny it to her whenever she should need it. Karigan's fingers interlacing with his was thanks in itself. It was but a moment before her hands steadied, and she separated them from his.

"There's not much more that I can tell, and Drent can likely recount Kaedra's portion better than I, but I'll tell what I know. Kaedra, stubborn Kaedra, knew well the way of the blade. She had it in mind to take those who guarded her family and turn them into something more. Before Kaedra, they were mere bodyguards – good men and women, all, and skilled, but nothing truly special, amongst the legions of soldiers who looked to Lil and Jonaeus, though they wore the Black, even then. It was Kaedra who gave them the Code and training they follow to this very day, Kaedra who made them Black Shield, and Kaedra who wore the Black herself. She was young when she led them, and the time came when she knew what it was to love. This Blade, and the three in the case held by Drent, were crafted by the one she wed, as a gift and mark of alliance. They were meant to stand against the Darkness of Mornhavon and the _Kanmorhan Vane, _both securing Sacoridia before the Wall was complete and finding any who may have escaped it. Save for Kaedra's Blade, none have been wielded since Smidhe Hillander took the throne. The Blade of the King, you see, had refused Agates Sealender, and after the civil war that followed the last Sealender reign, King Smidhe did not wish to chance the Blade refusing him as well… though it would not have."

"These blades, Karigan… what are they?"

Mapstone's voice surprised Zachary, as she'd not asked a single question during the time that she'd been in the Hall. He could not read her with his usual skill, and had not the slightest inclination as to the thoughts running through her head. To be fair, however, his attention had been focused more solidly on Karigan than his old friend. He looked at Laren, noting the signs of stress, the tired eyes and hints of an old grief. He listened intently to the continuing conversation, and tried to shut out – at least temporarily – the warm, welcoming song in the back of his mind.

"There were, as I've mentioned, three Blades crafted by Kaedra's beloved, and given to Sacoridia as a wedding gift. For the first few generations, all of the Blades remained in Kaedra's family. The Blade of the King went, of course, to Jonaeus. The Blade of the Rider was Lil's to wield. And the Blade of the Weapon was born first by Kaedra's younger sister, Iladry, who had felt called to the Black in her sister's footsteps. When Lil died, the Blade of the Rider went to her younger son, Sevraen, for whom my uncle was named… and upon the death of King Jonaeus, the Blade of the King passed into the safe-keeping of Veran, Kaedra's much-beloved twin brother. There is no blood-tie necessary for the wielding of these three Blades, only that the wielder be of good heart, honorable intention and action, and in the appropriate field – Weapon, Rider or Monarch. No wielder of any of the Blades may ever raise it in anger against another wielder. They are meant to work together." Here, his Kari paused for a moment and gathered herself again, smiling slightly as she moved to the next part of the explanation.

"It is the Blade of the King that sings to you, Sire. It is a song of welcome and joy. It has found you worthy, as I knew it would." In a moment, she had risen again from her chair, moved over to Drent, and opened the case he still cradled. Removing from it one of the blades – still sheathed – that had been nestled within, she walked about the table until she stood before the King's chair. Here, holding the sword in both hands, she went to one knee, and offered the sword to him. It was clear to him that her actions were a rather public way of re-affirming her oaths… and perhaps adding new dimensions to them. With no hesitation – and with that joyous song still ringing in his mind – he took the sword from her… and drew the Blade from its sheath.

_Welcome, True King, servant and ruler to Sacoridia, protector of your people._


	4. Chapter 3

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author Notes

Also, great thanks to LdyDarkStr for much of the scene involving the Blade of the Weapon. You'll know it when you get to it. I was stuck on that scene temporarily, and she felt the Blade whispering in her own mind. Great job, my friend.

_Chapter 3_

_Captain Mapstone's PoV_

Laren was startled by the look of wonder on her Monarch's face. _Blade of the King_, Karigan had called it, and truly, Mapstone had never seen its equal… save for the Blade now in her Rider's keeping.

_Sevraen's niece,_ she thought. _How could I not recognize her, even given the spell she mentions? They were Called to the same gift. They have the same eyes._ Even with the many years that had come and gone since she'd last seen him, the pain of Sevraen's death hit Laren anew, as fresh as if she'd just this minute been given news of it.

Seeing the looks that passed between her Rider and her King, looks of grief and unconditional support, she had reason to re-think what she had done. She burned the letters with the best of intentions, true, but who was she to decide that she knew better than the King? Who was she to deny her Rider what comfort she may find in the wake of the terrible word given her this night?

Mapstone did not see Karigan draw a second sword from the case, and was surprised by the gentle whisper in the back of her mind. _What is this?_ The Blade spoke to her, and there was a humming behind the words… a song not of welcome, but of mourning. _What is this? A Rider who has lost her way… who destroys messages instead of delivering them? And yet, you sorrow. You wish to save them from the grief you have known, Red Mapstone… Rider Captain. Your intentions are honorable, though your actions leave something to be desired. Still, there is redemption for you, should you seek it. No less could be expected of Sevraen's Love. The choice is yours, Captain. Should you choose, I will serve._

Despite the words, Laren sensed reluctance in the Blade. Though it was willing, her actions had tainted what might have been a comfort and strength to her in the days to come. Laren was not the one sought by the Blade… and she knew it. Once she'd made her choice, the Blade was aware of it.

_Very well. 'Tis the Rider of Fire for me, then. Mara, come and be welcome._ The echo of the song faded in Laren's mind, and she knew that little time would elapse before her second-in-command would pass through the doors, summoned.

So caught up in the conversation was she, that the Captain missed seeing the bonding of the Blade of the Weapon. She had, in fact, not even noticed when Fastion had entered the Hall… presuming that he hadn't been there from the very beginning. Laren could never understand the ways of Weapons, and Fastion and Drent mystified her more than most. She suspected that was precisely why they were so good at their own Calling.

She was startled, however, to see the drawn Blade in Fastion's hands. She had thought Drent… Her face must have been easier to read than usual, for Drent seemed to know what she was thinking.

"Were I younger, Captain, I would have wanted little more than the honor of this Blade. I doubt I'd be able to do it justice now. Fastion is the better choice." While Laren could not tell whether the decision had belonged more to the Blade or the man, she could not discern the same regret or longing that she knew shone in her own eyes.

"Rider Brennyn will be coming soon. The Blade of the Rider has chosen her as Wielder. She's strong enough for it." The glint of interest she saw in Fastion's eyes, Laren credited to a body that was getting too little sleep, and a mind that had too much to occupy it. Certainly, the Weapon couldn't view Mara in the way that look would suggest… could he?

_Karigan's PoV_

Karigan, worn nearly to the depths of her soul by the events of this day, found some comfort in the song of her Blade, an extra measure of strength that would allow her to complete the final task

Kari knew that the Blade of the Rider had not chosen Captain Mapstone; by the look on the Captain's face, it appeared to be more the choice of the Blade than the Rider. Sending a questioning thought toward the Rider's Blade, she heard the Summoning cry out for Mara. _A fitting choice, though I would have thought the Captain suitable_. With hands that she would not allow to tremble, she returned the Blade of the Rider – temporarily – to the case still held securely in Drent's arms.

Her hands ghosted over the third and final member of the Sacor Three – the Blade of the Weapon. Once, she would have thought the logical choice for Wielder to be Drent. Now, she knew different. _Drent does not wish it_, the Blade whispered in her mind. _He wishes the honor to go to a younger Weapon than he… and I find myself in agreement with him. He would be a sound Wielder, true, but he is not for me._ Taking hold of the Blade, she lifted it with both hands and held it aloft, nearly certain of its choice.

Separating from the shadows, Fastion stepped forward, his face transfixed, and what Karigan heard was as Fastion himself heard it.

The Blade sang to him in the language of his brethren blood, the sound of steel cutting through the air, the thud of heartbeat, and the scent of battle. _Come Weapon, for we are forged from the same steel. Our hearts beat within the battle and the honor of our Country and King. We seek the shadows, protecting the ones that need it the most. Fulfill the destiny of the Blades...let us be complete! _

Karigan palmed the Blade, offering the hilt of the sword to the Weapon. He bowed reverently, murmuring the Code of his calling. Rising, he slid his hand along the weapon before taking it in hand, drawing it to a chorus of other Weapon blades whispering free of their sheaths.

"For Honor! For our King! For Sacoridia!" Their voices rang out strong and true in salute, and the room stilled in the emotional moment.

The cry seemed to wake the Captain from her reverie, and she looked at the drawn Blade in Fastion's hands with more than a hint of confusion, before turning a questioning gaze toward Drent. Though Karigan was growing too weary to read the Captain's look, Drent seemed to have no such problem. "Were I younger, Captain," he said, "I would have wanted little more than the honor of this Blade. I doubt I'd be able to do it justice now. Fastion is the better choice."

Laren nodded, voicing next what Karigan already knew. "Rider Brennyn will be coming soon. The Blade of the Rider has chosen her as Wielder. She's strong enough for it." There was a hint of regret in the Captain's voice, and on any other day, Karigan might have found herself concerned by it, but there were few things on Karigan's mind now, and the Captain's welfare was not one of them.

Kari looked to the door to see Mara enter the Hall at a full run, no remaining Weapon making any attempt to stop her. They knew why she was there. She came to a stop before the King, instantly going to one knee. "I was summoned, Sire, and I came… though I know not _what_ it was that summoned me."

With one of the rare smiles that had graced her face this evening, Karigan turned to the chest one final time, removing again the Blade of the Rider, and offering it to Mara. The recently healed Rider reached a hand to the hilt, awe plain on her face. "It's singing," she said, at once appearing both shocked and accepting. "The Blade is singing to me." Rising to her feet, Mara drew the Blade, sealing the bond between them.

Karigan looked around her at the three newest Wielders. "Understand this," she said, softly, her voice strong with a hint of command that few had ever heard from her. "You are the Chosen. The Blades have found you worthy; had they not, you would not have been able to draw them even an inch from their sheaths. He who forged these blades knew that with every block of stone added to the D'yer Wall, more magic was shut away from Sacoridia. He knew that the day would come when it would no longer be enough that Mornhavon was shut away from us… when we must stand against him once more. To do that, there must be some magic left in this world to aid us. These blades were a gift and a promise. Never would Sacoridia stand alone against the darkness."

"A promise," Mara whispered, "from the Eletians to Sacoridia? Or, would there have been any other people with the ability to forge the moonstone and steel that I see melded together in these Blades?"

_I had hoped no one would realize that tonight. It only serves to further tangle this tale._ "No," Kari answered. "There is no one with that skill save the Eletians, and few enough among them, especially after the fall of Argenthyne."

"Kaedra's husband… was Eletian." The voice was Fastion's and Kari knew that his cunning mind had put together several pieces of the puzzle. "And Kaedra's Blade," Fastion continued, "_does_ have a blood tie, doesn't it? The Sacor Three do not… but Kaedra's Blade is not one of the Sacor Three."

"True," Karigan said, with a resigned half-smile. "Kaedra's Blade can only be Wielded by one of her blood… and, by default, one who has running through her veins the blood of Kaedra's husband. This, at least, explains why moonstones like me." Karigan's eyes darted to Drent's for a moment, silently asking that he keep in confidence that which he knew she _hadn't_ told… at least, for now. That same gaze assured Drent that she _would_ tell the King… she just wasn't sure how. At the least, she had no wish to tell him in front of the others.

_Elsewhere_

Some distance away, another Wielder – one not of Sacoridian blood – let his own fingers ghost over his old friend. _Kaedra's Blade and the Sacor Three are bonded. She lives?_ Had he spoken, there would have been a tone of hopeful disbelief in his voice. Long had he thought the last of Kaedra's line gone from this world, first with the children she had born him. His daughter, killed by one his gift would not reveal to him. His son, set upon by Sacoridian bandits while in the service of their Queen, Isen. Six times, his son had been Called to the Green, six times over the course of nearly nine hundred years. Each of those times, his daughter had accompanied him… following her own calling to the Black. Their lives had seemed singularly blessed. They had returned with injuries, true, but they had returned, nonetheless.

_And yet… and yet, a mere two months separated my daughter's death from the time my son fell while wearing the Green. And my granddaughter, my Liluyn, named for two formidable women both gone from us. Have I spent these last years thinking she died with her mother, only to miss seeing that which was in front of me? Old friend, does Kaedra's Blade speak to you? Does it tell you how my granddaughter is called?_

_It does,_ the Blade answered, _and the name is Karigan._

Suddenly, everything was clear to the Wielder, and he knew what it was that his children had done, hiding her so well that not even he could see. Without doubt, he knew that magic was the only reason Liluyn had not been laid to rest beside her mother.

_She grieves_, the Blade continued. _Somial comes with a report and the news is dire. There is a whisper of traitors. Her Clan is slaughtered, and the blood on Sacoridian and Eletian hand, both._

The Wielder knew well the anger – no, rage – that surged through him. He had felt it many times recently. His eldest children were gone, and the time of mourning for them had not yet ended. Were he to keep to it, he would not leave the Wood for a handful of years, yet… but if he did not leave, his only living grandchild would suffer for it. He had already lost her once by thinking her dead, and would not suffer her to be lost to death in truth.

His mind decided, the Wielder gathered his old friend into his hands, carrying the Eletian Blade of the King with him as he strode out of the room.


	5. Chapter 4

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author Notes

Note: I realized recently that I had placed Corsa in Adolind Province, instead of L'Petrie. That is now corrected, and Chapter 1 (the only Chapter so far in which Adolind had been mentioned) has been re-posted with that correction. You have my most sincere apologies for the error.

_Chapter 4_

Bleary-eyed and reluctant, Karigan opened her eyes to face the reality of another day. Sleep had not come easily to her, interrupted by nightmares… either hers or Noah's. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd rocked her little cousin back to sleep. There was no one to hold her, though she knew Zachary wanted to be her comfort.

She had begged off explaining any more to him last night, desperately needing to see to Noah, and give some thought to the rest of her Clan… that small group of children currently in Lord L'Petrie's care. Kari had no idea what to do. She could not leave them with Lord L'Petrie indefinitely, yet, with the destruction of her Clan and her Clan's assets, she didn't have the finances needed in L'Petrie Province to see to them properly. There was the possibility of sending them to her lands in Coutre Province and finding a trustworthy steward… but she wasn't certain how she felt about that.

There were too many thoughts swirling through the Rider's mind for her to concentrate properly on any one of them. Sighing, still exhausted and refusing to let herself dwell on her loss, she rose from her bed. There was too much to do, not the least of which was telling her King about her grandfather _before_ that grandfather decided to come for a visit. She knew the Eletian side of her family, if not aware that the Blades had been bonded and that she was still living, would hear about the banner soon enough. Either Blades or banner would be enough to draw her grandfather here, and the last thing she wanted was for that visit to surprise her King.

She swiped angrily at a tear that had made its way down her face. There wasn't time for that now. Grief would have to wait. Gently waking her cousin, she readied them both to seek their morning meal.

It wasn't until Karigan had entered the Dining Hall that she realized she was wearing her Blade, and that she felt vastly reassured by the feel of its weight at her hip. Nor was she the only Rider so armed. With a stride that showed more confidence than she felt, Karigan made her way through the crowded hall to where Mara stood, loading her plate with food and looking dressed more for battle than breakfast.

Kari noted, with approval and sorrow, that Noah knew how to stay near her without being in the way should she suddenly need to draw her Blade in defense. Sadly, given previous events in Sacor City, it wasn't as unlikely as she'd like to think. She ignored the curious looks of her fellow Riders for the moment. There would be plenty of time to explain everything to them later; the King came first.

The look of sympathy in Mara's eyes let Karigan know that someone had told her what had occurred in the Hall before she was Summoned. Were Karigan one to wager, she'd have to split her money three ways; there was an equal chance of the culprit being the Captain, Fastion, or the Blade of the Rider.

Mara, thankfully, said nothing on the matter, choosing instead to set her own plate at a table occupied by the largest number of senior Riders… those who knew Karigan best, and would not push for details. Fastion appeared at Karigan's side and, without a word, took one of the plates Karigan had prepared, leading her to that same table. Though she should have been surprised to see him, she understood his presence when, after setting her plate on the table to Mara's right, he himself claimed the seat to Mara's left. Removing her Blade, Karigan carefully placed the sword-belt about the back of her chair, echoing its place on Aidan's chair only the night before. _Gods, it was only last night, wasn't it?_

Karigan noticed Mara and Fastion following her actions to her left, as Garth picked Noah up and gently set him in the chair to her right, seating himself on the other side of the small boy. Beginning to eat her own breakfast, the realization that she hadn't seen to Aidan and Lise made her pause.

"Oh, hells," she muttered to herself. "Remember the cousin and forget the friends... wonderful."

Gathering herself to rise again, she murmured to Noah that he was to wait in his place and she'd be right back, but a pair of hands on her shoulders kept her firmly seated. She didn't have to look to know who it was, even though she'd not seen him leave his own chair. "Good morning, Fastion."

"Good morning, Rider. Should you happen to be contemplating avoiding your breakfast to see to your clansmen, they've already eaten. You are to do the same." She could hear the concern in his voice, and it warmed her.

"Is that an order, my friend?" Though Karigan wasn't facing the rest of the room, she could almost see the looks of shock on the faces of the newer Riders at the thought of Weapons having friends. Most of them had not yet observed Weapons long enough to realize they were people.

"An order, Rider… no. However, it is a strong suggestion. In fact, if you do not eat, we may have to make you." Kari could hear the hint of laughter in his voice, though she wasn't sure if anyone else caught it.

"And you'd have no shortage of help, I know. Thank you, Fastion. Breakfast will be rather short, anyway. There's too much to do."

With a final comforting pat to her shoulders, Fastion slid back to his chair, leaving many confused Riders looking to their table. Karigan was certain that he was enjoying every minute of that confusion. Noah just gazed after the Weapon in boyish awe, clearly intrigued.

Shaking her head, she went back to the task of finishing her breakfast and seeing that Noah finished his.

_Zachary's PoV_

The King stood in his new study, looking out the window. The view wasn't what he was used to, but it was a pleasant sight, nonetheless. He'd spent much of the morning thinking on everything he'd heard and seen the night before, knowing that he was missing something. _What hasn't she told me?_

Unexpectedly, it was the Blade that answered him. _Only that for which she hasn't yet found the words. She comes, and your questions will be answered, King. She simply did not know how to tell you all that she remembers._

_It will take me some time_, Zachary responded in his mind, _to become accustomed to the idea – and the reality – of a thinking Blade._

_There is a magic in the Blades, Great King, that was forged into us at every step of our crafting, making us far and away more than mere weapons. We were created to protect and aid, but have not always been able to speak to our Wielders. We cannot explain it, though our Maker would know the answers you seek._

Sighing, the tired King ran a hand through his hair, knowing that though the day before had been long, this one would be longer still.

_Karigan's PoV_

Karigan strode through the castle, concerned only with the upcoming conversation. She had no reason to worry about Noah right now; Garth, saying that he was missing his herd of younger siblings, commandeered Noah as soon as he'd finished eating… apparently with the intention of spoiling him rotten all day.

With that in mind, she made her way to the King's new study, though only after almost turning down the corridor that would have led to his _old_ study. _The Queen's Solarium, now,_ she reminded herself, sternly. _That is not my place, and I cannot let Sacoridia be divided simply because of a misguided memory telling me that Zachary was destined to have a different Queen. That place beside him cannot be mine… even if his grandmother said otherwise._

Noting several Weapons stationed at various points along her route, she gave a subtle nod to each, receiving acknowledgment in return. She had no doubt that Fastion and Drent had informed the entire body of Weapons of last night's events. Without communication, they could not hope to safeguard the King, and she held no illusions that they would keep the bonding of Kaedra's Blade secret from one another.

Trusting the Weapons, she was not concerned by them. The over-eager young soldier who had been following her for the past several minutes was a different matter entirely, and when he laid a hand on her arm from behind, she spun to meet him, not reaching for her Blade, but quite aware of its presence.

"I cannot allow you to be this far within the Castle so armed, Rider." His manner was courteous enough, Karigan had to admit, but she had to wonder who had trained him so poorly that he had failed to notice the Weapons had allowed her to pass. _Does he think the Weapons blind, that they didn't see my Blade… or traitorous, that they didn't stop me? Or did he not see them at all?_

His manner had been respectful, and her response would have been equally so… had she a chance to give it. A Weapon's hand on the soldier's arm convinced him that it might be wise to release her, and that same Black Shield – Donal – spoke in her defense. His voice, though polite, carried a deathly chill.

"We do not often explain ourselves, Corporal, but as your intentions were honorable, we'll make an exception. Rider Sir G'ladheon may bear that Blade where she pleases, even in the presence of the King, as she will never use it to his detriment. No harm will come to the King by way of Rider G'ladheon, a wise and trusted servant of Sacoridia, one who is herself a Weapon in all save name. Were she a threat, she would not have made it this far so armed. Do you understand me?"

Shaken, the young soldier could manage only a "Yes, Weapon," before scurrying down a corridor and out of sight.

"I could have handled it, Donal, but thank you."

In a much warmer voice than that with which he'd spoken to the soldier, he said, "It's no problem, Rider. You have enough to deal with at the moment. As it was, I told him nothing that was not truth. All Wielders may bear their Blades where they please. Neither Weapon's Blade nor Rider's Blade would harm the King, and for Kaedra's Blade to do so would be equally impossible, even if you were so inclined." The look he gave her told her that he could never see such a thing happening. With a respectful bow, he motioned her on her way.

"He is waiting for you."

_I know._ With her heart in her throat, she turned the last corner, nodded to the Weapons stationed by the door… and knocked.

_Zachary's PoV_

_She's here._ "Come," Zachary said, in response to the knock on his door. There was only one person it could be at the moment.

Karigan entered the room, and despite the dry eyes, he could see the marks of stress and grief on her face. Without a word, he poured two drinks from the same bottle of aged brandy that had served him well when she'd told of her meeting with Prince Jametari, passing one to her.

"Before you say so much as a single word to me, Karigan, I expect you to drink that." She lifted startled eyes to him, but drank the brandy with no protest. That alone made him wonder at the nature of the news she was having such difficulty telling him.

"Sire," she began, once she had laid the glass upon his desk, "you know much of what I remember… the greatest portion of it, actually. But what I haven't told you is, to put it mildly, rather important, and I'm honestly not certain I can find the words. I beg pardon if, perhaps, I am overly blunt."

Her words coaxed a smile from him. "This would likely be the first time, then, as I recall 'blunt' being your normal manner of speech… and I do not remember you seeking pardon prior to now."

She shook her head, appearing annoyed at herself. "Sire, there likely will not be much time before the Maker of these Blades comes for a visit, and I did not wish you caught by surprise. As the Maker of the Blades, and Wielder of one of the Eletian Three, he would have known the instant that Kaedra's Blade and the Sacor Three were bonded. It wouldn't take much for him to make the connections, Sire."

"Is he a danger, this ancestor of yours?" _Come, Kari, you can be more direct than that. Just tell me what you mean to say._

"He is no danger, Sire; no Blade Wielder may harm another. It's just that the connection isn't quite so distant as everyone's been presuming. Sire, Kaedra's children, as half-Eletians, were as eternal as her husband… and they did not marry young."

It didn't take the King long to understand what she was saying, and put it in the context of what he'd heard the night before. He was certain his astonishment showed on his face. "How close is the connection, Karigan?"

"Very, Sire. This blade, Kaedra's Blade, had only two Wielders before me – Kaedra, and her daughter, who was my mother, Kariny."

Without a word, Zachary poured himself another measure of brandy, the implications ringing in his head, along with an unforeseen rage that Stevic G'ladheon hadn't told his daughter this when it could have made a difference to them. The Rider before him, the Rider _he loved_, had enough Sacoridian Royal blood flowing in her veins that she had a legitimate claim to the Crown in her own right, not that she'd ever seek it. He knew her too well to think that. _By the gods, Jonaeus and Lil's own great-granddaughter. The match that would be, were I not caught in this damnable contract._

"That means, then," he said, once he'd calmed, "that the Eletian coming, Kaedra's husband, is your grandfather?"

"Yes, Sire, and a Wielder in his own right."

_Which Blade, I wonder?_ The King marshaled his thoughts before speaking again. "The Eletians have… three Blades, correct, presumably the equivalents to ours?" A nod was her only answer. "Which Blade, Karigan?"

Her eyes lifted to meet his, holding them, nearly looking through him. What she was searching for, he did not know, but he knew she'd found it when she took a deep breath and began her answer.

"My grandfather's Blade, Sire… is the Eletian Blade of the King. Sometime in the very near future, Santanara will leave the Elt Wood and journey here, despite the fact that the period of mourning has not yet ended either for my mother or my uncle. And when he gets here, I will have to tell the grandfather that I have not seen since I was three – but still love – that I was there when his daughter was killed, there and left for dead. I will have to tell him that I avenged her murder without even realizing it… because his daughter was killed by his only grandson. Somehow, I don't think he will take the news well."


	6. Chapter 5

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author Notes

Also, my apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. I was taking a bit of a break over Christmas... and taking a little extra care with this one.

_Chapter 5_

_Zachary's PoV_

The King was shocked into silence. _That… was unexpected_. Lost in thought, he had no concept of the passage of time, and no idea that his lack of response may be making Karigan uneasy. He was brought back to his surroundings when she began to move.

He watched, still silent, as she went to one knee before him and bent her head. In a voice clear and strong, that echoed through the chamber, she swore anew the Rider Oath.

Zachary realized that, in his silence, she must have thought him doubtful of her. In an instant, he stood and drew Kari to her feet. "Understand this, Karigan, Rider Sir G'ladheon, you need never be concerned that I would think you less than loyal. I will never doubt you and never fear betrayal at your hand. Your oath, _once_ given, is enough for me, whatever secrets you may find. It need not be repeated for my sake. You are still you, and regardless of name or bloodline, I would know you, trust you…" _Love you, _he whispered in the privacy of his own mind.

Her voice was soft when she spoke again. "Sacoridia is the constant in my life… Sacoridia, the Riders… you. When everything else has fallen to chaos, this remains. There is something else, Sire… but I need to think on that a little more, need to know if that memory is truth or daydream. Before I can, I need to figure out what to do about the children. I need to bury my father." Her breath caught and she swallowed a sob, trying to push down the grief for just one moment more. Zachary's hand brushed a tear from her cheek… and Karigan broke.

He caught Karigan as her knees buckled, not letting her fall. Her scream of rage and pain resounded in the room, causing the Weapons posted outside to rush in. Taking note of the grieving Rider – their grieving Sister – they left as quickly as they had entered, leaving the King reassured that no one would disturb them.

Tucking her head into his shoulder, much the same as that night long ago when he'd told her of Rider Barracks burning, he ran a hand over her hair, threading his fingers through the strands… trying to bring her comfort in whatever manner was available to him. He said little, doubting that she would hear him, and set his mind to simply being there for her, in whatever way she should have need of him.

"Let go, Kari," he whispered, in those moments when it seemed as though she might rein in the tears again. "Let it all go. It does no good locked inside, would do nothing but fester and destroy you. Let it out, Love. If you fall, I'll catch you."

Karigan cried and screamed until she had neither the tears nor the voice to continue. Finally, calmed through sheer exhaustion, she whispered, hoarsely, "Sometimes, it's just too much. And this… Sire, I shouldn't be here. Much as I wish… I shouldn't be here. There are those who would take this wrongly, who would use it against you… and I could not bear that." Her eyes steeled with that stubbornness he knew well, having faced it many times before. "I _will not_ be used against you."

"You can bear anything you must; you already have. This, should anyone know of it, could do no harm to me. There are far greater crimes in the world of politics than comforting a grieving friend… even if it looks like more than comfort to those who see only what they wish." _Even if at least one of those involved wishes to be more than friends._

He coaxed her to close those stubborn eyes for a moment, lowering her down to rest on the settee. Covering her with his greatcoat, again so like the other time she'd cried in his arms, he watched her drift into sleep. He allowed his fingers to ghost over her face, drying the last few tears, then rested his head in his hands, both hopeful and sorrowed by the realization that this love he had for his Rider was _not_ one-sided. _That devotion in her voice, the utter determination that she will not be my downfall… those are more than the loyalty of a Rider. Those are the marks of a woman in love, even if she has not said it outright. And yet, for all that I want nothing more, I would not want her knowing this pain after everything else… if I cannot break this contract._

Running a gentle hand once more through Kari's hair, he moved back to his desk, where he could work without losing sight of her.

.

.

.

.

.

Several hours' passage had only seen Zachary's mind going back and forth between thoughts of the Kingdom and Karigan, never fully settling on either one. _Although, _he thought to himself, _in this instance, I could say that thinking of her _is _thinking of the Kingdom, given her recently revealed connections. She is a granddaughter of kings. The Blade that even now rests at her side is one that no other would be able to draw. Some would call it 'destiny,' but my Kari would not care for that term. _The King's heart ached for his beloved, and yet, the part of him that remained King at all times was relieved by what she had told him, and what it meant for Sacoridia. She was Santanara's only living grandchild, and was ever loyal to _Sacoridia_ and _Zachary_. Her loyalty to him created a bond that Santanara would not be able to overlook… or destroy, were he of a mind to do so. Her presence here, though it may not _guarantee_ Eletian cooperation in dealing with Mornhavon, certainly seemed cause enough for hope… and the greater the chance of Eletian cooperation, the less the chance that Sacoridia would crumble around him and leave his people with nothing.

He could not allow more of his people to be raised without hope… without Clan… as Kari and her tiny cousin now found themselves. The weight of that loss settled atop the King's shoulders and blended with the rest of his responsibilities like an old, familiar coat. _Unfortunate,_ he mused, _that the weight of __them cannot be so comfortable to me as that old coat._

In his mind, he began to piece together the puzzle, the network, like Rider way-stations, of people who looked to Karigan in some way, shape, or form, who might provide more support for her than just himself. Riders, yes. The more senior Riders, in particular, trusted her judgment. They'd seen what she could do. Merchants, yes, for they saw her as one of theirs. Though they were confused at her joining the Green, they did not treat her as any less a merchant or a merchant's daughter because of it. Weapons… the particular way in which they took to her never ceased to amaze him. And though Fastion had mentioned it happening on rare occasions, Zachary had never seen the Weapons dress in their colors one who was not Black Shield… until Karigan

Nobles… their views of Karigan, if any would admit to thinking of Karigan enough to _have_ a view… were a mystery at best. Despite Coutre's gratitude to Karigan for saving Estora, Zachary did not know how the older noble would interpret these events. _So, then, I shall let him know all of it… most of it. I will make my explanations… from there, he may draw his own conclusions, dangerous though it may be. Of course,_ he thought, _the good Lord Coutre will not realize the explanations offered will be on my terms alone._

Looking back to where Karigan lay, undisturbed by the Blade beside her, he could not help but think on her strength and hope that strength – and his – would be enough to sustain her through everything that she must do. It was no easy task to bury one's father. How much less so would it be to see the death rites done for an entire Clan?

A light knock at the study door heralded a visitor and, knowing that calling out a welcome would likely wake Karigan, Zachary moved to answer it. He opened the door to the sight of Rider Bowen, holding a sobbing Noah. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Governor Coutre slip back into the shadows, and could only presume the noble wished to speak with him about something. Thankfully – and for reasons known only to the older man – Coutre appeared to be in good enough mood to allow someone else the first word.

_Coutre's PoV_

Lord Governor Coutre had known something was amiss the moment he'd set foot out of his chambers that morning, and that feeling only intensified once he left the castle grounds and ventured into the City around it. There was a tension in the air, a feeling that reminded the noble of those times when he would be preparing for battle.

More unnerving, however, were the Weapons. In the face and eyes of every Weapon he saw – and there were many _making_ themselves seen at present, both within and outside of castle walls – there seemed a quiet, seething rage. That something had cracked the implacable mask enough for him to see emotion beneath it concerned him greatly, though that emotion was not focused on him.

And then, there was the new banner flying high above the castle ramparts, the banner that looked to be made of gossamer threads, clearly of Eletian crafting, and so unearthly beautiful it almost hurt to look at it. And yet, for all its seeming fragility, he had the impression that the banner was older than some parts of the castle… and showed not the slightest wind damage or tearing. He focused on it, trying to make out the emblems, to discover which noble house it heralded, and why it flew below his own standard.

It could not be an ambassador. Should an ambassador travel with a banner, it would of political necessity have been raised higher than this one flew… and he'd heard no word of a new Eletian encampment nearby. All the same, he could not deny the feeling that the standard was somehow connected to the Weapons – to be more precise, that it was somehow connected to the Weapons' _anger_.

Troubled, after a morning full of observations, the noon bell saw Coutre making his way back into the castle, heading to the King's study. If anyone had the answers he wanted, it would be his future son-in-law.

Approaching the study, Lord Coutre paused when he saw a Green Rider standing before the door, a small boy sobbing in his arms. The noble was too far away to hear what the child was saying, but it was clear that the Rider was attempting to reassure him. The Rider must have knocked already, as the door was opened a second later, not by a servant, but by the King himself. Coutre did not stop long to consider the strangeness of the King answering his own door rather than just calling out permission for the visitor to enter, focused as he was on the conversation taking place before him. Thankfully, the Rider's voice was loud enough when speaking to the King for Coutre to understand clearly.

"Noah has had enough, Sire, of being away from Karigan for the day," he said, sighing. "When I volunteered to entertain him today, she let me know that she was heading to a meeting with you, just in case he would need her." The King, for a moment, looked to have the weight of the world on his shoulders, sorrow passing briefly over his features.

"How much do you know of what happened last night, Rider Bowen?" The Rider's face, in response, showed a mixture of rage and grief, in part an eerie echo of the Weapon faces the Lord Governor had been seeing all morning. _The Riders know. The Weapons know. What has been kept from me?_

"Sire," the Rider answered, still attempting to calm the child in his arms, "Rider Lt. Brennyn has explained much of the situation to us… the senior Riders. The newer Riders, the ones who don't know Karigan so well, will only be told if she wishes. We're in shock, yet… angry, at the same time. This strike at her, to those of us who've been here longest, is nearly as difficult for us as a direct attack on the Captain." Rider Bowen paused, taking a breath.

"Sire, Karigan is… a constant to us, always there. When Rider Barracks burned, it was Karigan who met each of us as we came in, Karigan who made certain we were seen to and comforted, though there were no Riders here in fit condition to comfort _her_. She held us together, Sire, when no other could. The Captain and Mara were injured, Connly was away, Ereal… gone, and though Karigan was not the most senior Rider remaining, it was _she _who shouldered the burden of all of them. What has happened is confusing to us, infuriating to us, and with what we know – or _don't _know – there is little we can do about it. As a whole, we are so desperate for some recourse that, to be quite honest, all one would need do at this moment is find who is responsible, point us in the proper direction, and say 'Go.' We want little more than to inflict the same pain on them that they've brought to her. She does not deserve this, and none of us has even begun to come up with any kind of logical explanation. This butchery makes no sense."

_Butchery?_

The King gave Rider Bowen a measuring look, not seeming surprised by the younger man's words, though Lord Coutre felt that this Rider did not usually say quite so much. Looking again to the sobbing child, King Zachary reached out and swiftly transferred the boy from the Rider's arms to his own. "Now, Noah," the King said, softly, but in a voice still audible to the silent, watching noble, "I know I'm not your Kari, but do you think I'd do for now? Let's be good and give her a chance to catch up on some of her sleep, hmm?"

Half-wondering how the King knew that Rider G'ladheon – Rider _Sir_ G'ladheon – slept, Lord Coutre watched the pair, man and child, in stunned silence. Had he not known better, he would have thought them to be father and son. Noah, trustingly and without complaint, had tucked his head into the King's shoulder and been lulled to sleep by the feel of Zachary's strong, gentle hand running over his head and back.

Impatient at the lack of information coming his way, though determined to speak softly for the sake of the sleeping boy, Lord Governor Coutre strode from the shadows and directly toward the King. That said King did not appear surprised to see him would not occur to him until later.


	7. Chapter 6

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

_Chapter 6_

Noting the Lord Governor approaching and realizing that the time for explanations had come, Zachary quietly dismissed Garth and ushered the older noble into his study, still cradling the sleeping boy.

"Softly, if you please, Lord Governor," Zachary said, in a tone that was polite, but just short of making his words an order. "I would not wish to wake either of these two at the moment. They've been through a great deal lately."

It did not take any great amount of observational skill to see a growing glint of anger in Lord Coutre's eyes as he caught sight of the sleeping Rider, covered by the King's own greatcoat. Nor was there any difficulty in realizing that he'd managed to catapult himself to the wrong conclusion. Yet, despite everything, when he spoke, his voice _was _quiet.

"You dare…"

"I dare nothing, Lord Governor." The King's voice was soft and cold, and even the stubborn Eastern Lord flinched a bit at the chill. "This is what comes of comforting a friend, Lord Coutre, a friend who learned _just last night_ that her Clan has been reduced to a handful of frightened, haunted children. Despite that… despite that, she kept her composure while in the public eye… kept steady even with me until the moment she could not bear it any longer. Even that was in the privacy of this room. There is no dishonor in our actions this day or last, and I would appreciate it if you did not insinuate otherwise."

Turning his back on the other noble, Zachary stepped – light and silent – to the settee. Moving back his greatcoat with one hand, he settled Noah in beside Karigan and noted, before he covered the two, that even in her sleep, her arm reached out to hold the boy near.

Returning his gaze to the Lord Governor's, the King could see the doubt in his eyes. To some extent, he understood it – there had not been an atrocity of this magnitude since the Civil War. Who, after all, would have reason or means to kill an entire Clan? The King watched as Coutre's gaze landed on Kaedra's Blade, still sheathed. Something about the emblems intrigued him, Zachary realized.

"If she is not your mistress, High King… what then is she doing with a sword so costly it _must_ have been a royal gift? The sigils on the scabbard match the new banner flying above the castle. You dare place this Rider on the same level as my daughter?" Incensed, Lord Coutre moved ever nearer Karigan, apparently intending to gain his answers directly from the Rider in question.

"Lord Governor, I wouldn't…" Zachary's voice trailed off for a moment, and there was a hint of laughter, carefully hidden a second later, when he continued, "wake her that way, were I you. 'Tis never a wise idea to wake an armed warrior with a touch." Of course, seeing as Kaedra's Blade was drawn and its point nestled snuggly in the hollow of Lord Coutre's throat – just barely avoiding nicking the skin – Zachary presumed that the lesson had been driven home in suitable manner.

Shaking off the last look of sleep, Karigan glanced behind her to ensure the safety of her cousin, who had been safely nestled in her arms just a moment before. Reassured that he was well – if no longer asleep – Karigan sheathed her Blade.

"My apologies, Lord Governor," she said, appearing more amused than apologetic. "Please excuse me; I'm a little more cautious than usual, at present."

The noble – unconsciously, Zachary thought – reached up to feel his throat, as though to assure himself that no skin had been broken. "And swift to act, it seems."

"Unfortunately, recent events have made that necessary, Lord Governor, particularly for the King's messengers. Lately, there is no truer sentiment for us than 'speed is life.'" With a small sigh and a tired shake of her head, Karigan continued, "From the expression on your face, Lord Governor, I'd say that I've done something to upset you. Would I be correct?"

"Perhaps." The look on the old lord's face was speculative and made obvious the political cunning to which Zachary had found himself in opposition… on many prior occasions. Had it been aimed at him, Zachary would not have been concerned, but that cunning was now focused on Karigan. Though her skill with a blade was great, politics was not her strength. Still, the quick look she gave him asked him to trust her, in what she revealed to the Lord Governor. A thought occurred to him, and it took only a second for his Blade to confirm that it was possible. _Be careful of this old wolf, Kari,_ he thought, his Blade sending the thought to hers. _He's a cagey one, and does not deal well with those who oppose him. Let me handle him, if you would._

She cast a startled glance his way – subtle and fleeting – which Zachary hoped Coutre didn't notice. Coutre's next question, however, was enough to prompt shock in and of itself. "May I ask where you received that exceptional weapon, Rider Sir G'ladheon?" Zachary appreciated the path the old Lord was taking, having expected him to accuse Kari outright… likely provoking her temper, which the King knew from experience to be formidable indeed.

The King's Blade relayed Karigan's thoughts to him, passed by way of her own Blade. _He thinks it was a gift from you, doesn't he?_ The thought carried with it a hint of amusement, a sentiment he shared as she answered Coutre's question.

"This Blade," Kari replied, a hint of a smile curving the corners of her mouth, "is a family heirloom, Lord Governor. It has been in my family for more than nine hundred years. And while it was, indeed, a gift from a King… as I'm sure you can surmise, that King was not this one. He was not even Sacoridian."

She paused, seeming to take in Lord Coutre's slightly startled expression. Kari's thought rang in Zachary's head. _Do you mind if I tell him some information about the Sacor Three? It's a matter of security now, and more your decision than mine, since the Bonding._ His assent was swift. For the moment, he was content to watch her deliver one shock after another to the older lord, more amused than he had been in quite some time, though he would not let Coutre see it.

"There were three Blades such as this one given to Sacoridia as a whole – the Blade of the Weapon, the Blade of the Rider… and the Blade of the King. They were crafted to stand against what waits behind the Wall, made to bring light to the Darkness. This Blade is not one of those Three, but was forged by the same hand, in the same fire, and to the same purpose. This Blade, however, was given into the care of a particular family line, a line that was to serve as Guardian to Sacoridia, and living reminders of an ancient alliance. That line is mine."

Coutre swallowed quickly, before moving on to his next question. "And the banner?"

Zachary answered this question, though it also had been directed to Karigan. "The banner, Lord Governor, was also a gift from that King, and is a reassurance to his people that the alliance is remembered and honored. It is no affront to your Clan or your daughter."

"Sire," and here Lord Coutre paused a moment before continuing, his indignation seeming to have faded, "the banner is Eletian. Does that mean…"

"That the Blades were a gift from the Eletian King, Santanara? Yes, Lord Governor, it means precisely that. And we would not wish to offend him by refusing the use of such gifts – as others have done – now would we?"

The Lord Governor let his gaze pass between the Rider Knight and the King, appearing to reach some conclusion within his own mind that he did not wish to share. Zachary believed him to have discarded the idea of Karigan being the King's mistress when he turned the conversation back to an earlier topic.

"Sire, I have heard whisperings today of some dire happenings. Your words earlier as to why Rider Sir G'ladheon was sleeping here would seem to confirm them. What has happened?"

Zachary saw the pain flash again across Karigan's eyes, before she turned slightly to check on Noah. The King looked as well, quickly, only to find that the little one had returned to the land of dreams, having covered himself with the greatcoat and snuggled deeply into it.

"Riders will go out today, summoning the Lords for the Council," Zachary responded. "We received word last night, by way of three of Rider G'ladheon's remaining clansmen – including young Noah, that Clan G'ladheon had been slaughtered." Karigan's face, by this time, had become a mask worthy of any Weapon. _Worthy of a Queen,_ he thought briefly. She made no move to halt the telling of the tale.

"The Clan Chieftain," he continued, "had apparently received some warning – not enough to stop the attack, but enough to have the children gathered and their safety seen to. He had the eldest of the children guide the rest to Lord L'Petrie's estates, where they remain at the moment. The eldest two and young Noah then continued on here to bring word to Rider G'ladheon. We've not had the time to verify whether or not others remain, though a scout force will be leaving shortly. The children, however, seemed certain the enemy would not have spared anyone."

The Governor, shaken by the King's words, had only one question. "Who?"

Karigan's voice, quiet, spoke the simple answer to that question. "We don't know."

For a time the Governor said nothing, and Zachary also stood silent, watching, and waiting for the Governor's next move in this living game of Intrigue. _Does he believe that Karigan is not my mistress? Has he understood the full depth of what has happened? Will he accept that I will not allow myself to be less than comfort to her… or will he make things more difficult than they need be? And should he choose to make things difficult, what shall I do to persuade him otherwise?_

"What of the children?" Coutre asked, when finally he spoke again.

"For the moment, Lord Coutre," Karigan responded, her voice still soft but her face resolute, "they are safe with Lord L'Petrie, though I've no wish to impose on his hospitality long. As for what happens next… I'm not certain."

"You have lands in Coutre Province, Rider Sir G'ladheon." Coutre's voice was almost gentle as he reminded her of this, appearing to have fully realized the extent of the slaughter.

"My thanks, Lord Governor… but Coutre Province, despite my respect for Lady Estora, would not suit. For one, it is far too distant from Sacor City, where I am duty-bound to remain. I could not easily check upon the children, nor is there anyone suitable to appoint as steward over those lands at present." Her eyes slid again to Noah, still soundly asleep.

"My nephew could see to them. Lord Spane is an honorable man."

Zachary was startled at the anger flashing in Karigan's eyes at that statement, and when she turned again to face Lord Coutre, the man stepped back from her. Karigan's jaw was clenched, and her eyes glinted like molten steel. _Karigan, what is it?_

Taking a calming breath, Karigan spoke, polite but firm. "Unfortunately, Sir, Lord Spane would not suit. You see, though the King would have no reason to confide such matters in his Riders, his Riders do have ears… and Lord Spane, when intoxicated, has a habit of bragging. This habit is most in evidence when it comes to certain threats made in regards to a betrothal contract. As I heard the words from Lord Spane's own mouth, I've little cause to doubt them. With all due respect, Lord Governor, I will not entrust these children to the care of a Province that has threatened to break from Sacoridia if it did not get what it wished… even though it knew the strength of the threat that faces us from beyond the Wall."

Karigan paused, and Zachary could feel her anger resonate through the Blades. There was a hint of amusement there as well, as he watched Coutre struggle to find a reply. This moment was Karigan's and he would not interrupt it… yet.

"Our respect for Lady Estora has not faded, Lord Governor… but Riders do not look fondly on those who threaten King and Country. Do you not understand? If Sacoridia does not stand together against the strength of Mornhavon, it will not stand at all. Do you think, should you carry out your threats, that the Eastern Provinces would survive when Sacoridia fell… that Mornhavon would not seek those Provinces next? Lord Spane may not have understood that, but the Riders do, and while, again, Lady Estora keeps our respect… the Riders are not so forgiving of Lord Spane – or, indeed, yourself. In fact, those Riders from Coutre Province feel particularly betrayed and have told me as much… because they feel their own Lord Governor would attempt to force a choice on them when there is none to be made. They would not choose their Governor over their King, and they fear their families would suffer for it. No… all due respect, Lord Governor, Coutre Province will not suit for the safe-keeping of these children."

Zachary, startled by this account of the support offered by his Riders, found himself momentarily speechless… as was the Lord Governor. Coutre, visibly shaken, looked to say something. Then he paused, straightened, and again began to speak.

"Under other circumstances, Rider G'ladheon… and from nearly any other speaker… I would cry insult at the things you've said. Instead, I find myself with much to think about. If you'll pardon me, Sire?"

Zachary's nod gave the noble leave to go, and Coutre bowed slightly before departing the study, leaving in it only the King, his Rider, and the still-sleeping child.


	8. Chapter 7

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

_Chapter 7_

_Chapter Summary: Estora remembers that she has a brain… and her spine is no longer Missing in Action._

Shaken, Coutre walked away from the King's study, barely managing to avoid stumbling over nothing as he did so. _Those Riders from Coutre Province feel particularly betrayed… They would not choose their Governor over their King, and they fear their families would suffer for it._ The memory of the Rider's words haunted him; the thought that people of his own Province would fear for their families under his care was a foreign one. Had the Coutre-born Riders truly viewed his actions as a betrayal? What had he done differently than any other noble who wished his daughter to be Queen?

Lost in his own thoughts, he did not notice his eldest child walking the corridors in his direction, and couldn't help flinching when she touched him.

"Father… are you alright?"

He came back to himself to look into his daughter's eyes and, by way of an old habit, gave her a quick look to verify that all was well. On the surface, she seemed every inch what a Queen should be. _She is meant to be Queen. She _**is. **_I did nothing that did not need to be done, and that upstart Rider has no business scolding me… or being 'comforted' by the King. 'Comforted,' indeed._

"It is nothing, Estora. Nothing of any consequence." Brushing past his daughter, he began to head back to his quarters, just barely managing to hear what she said next, though he was fairly certain she had not meant him to overhear it. For the first time in a great while, Estora was _angry_.

"And again," she said softly, "again, you keep your own counsel. Again, you deny me. Again, you ignore me, just as you did before you sent me from my home to this place, to be paraded about like a prize brood-mare."

Coutre turned to face his daughter again, startled. "Estora?"

Her eyes flashed and Coutre – for a brief moment – gave thanks that Estora was not trained in the blade. Facing _one _armed and angry woman that day had been quite enough. Estora looked at him and shook her head. "We will not do this here," she said, "but I _will_ know what bothers you. We will go to the Solarium and I will respectfully request that my Lady Mother and my sisters go for a walk, perhaps do a little shopping, and we will talk. I wish to know what – precisely – I did to deserve being exiled in all save name from Coutre Province and your confidence, and neither one of us will leave that room until you tell me."

Furious at this behavior from his daughter, Coutre, despite his earlier thoughts, failed to consider that Estora would soon be Queen, and that it might not be wise to annoy her. Thus, he spoke without thinking. "This is ridiculous, Estora. I need tell you nothing and you cannot bid me stay in a room like a misbehaving mongrel."

The smile on his daughter's face, one that said he'd pushed too far, did not bode well.

"I can't," she said. "That is true. However, _they_ can." Coutre followed her gaze to see two Weapons step from the shadows in which they'd so easily concealed themselves. Bound as they were to both see to her safety and follow her orders, he knew they would make certain he went to the Solarium whether he wished it or not. And truly, he had no wish to find a sword-point at his neck for a second time this day.

A short time later, the Queen's Solarium abandoned by all save the Eastern Lord and his daughter, Coutre found himself wondering where his dutiful daughter had gone. That daughter had followed his orders without complaint, had willingly accepted the King's marriage bid and done as he willed for the betterment of Coutre Province. That daughter did not stand in front of him. This daughter who paced before him now, flashing eyes and temper evident, was the one who had been the apple of his eye when younger, following him on his rounds and learning at his side how to govern Coutre Province, as independent, stubborn and wild as the Province itself. As a child, he'd understood and encouraged that wildness, but it had no place in a young Lady, and he'd made that clear to her before sending her to school, and clearer still before sending her to Sacor City in hopes of finding her a husband. Coutre Province could not be seen to have anything less than a perfect Lady as its Heir. Anything less would be a disgrace. She was to be poised, graceful, courteous, knowledgeable in the arts, history, literature.

She was, in essence, supposed to become her mother.

As he watched her, Coutre recalled the words she'd spoken in the corridor, that proclaimed her time here nothing short of exile, and could not leave that statement unanswered… could not leave anything unanswered. The old lord was tired… tired of being angry, tired of worrying over this daughter of his who did not seem to realize that everything he did was for her benefit… tired, indeed, of being here.

"Do you truly hate it so much as that?"

His eldest child stopped in the midst of her pacing, apparently startled that he'd finally spoken. Turning, she looked at him, and he realized – perhaps for the first time in a very long time – how much like himself Estora was. She took after him – in temperament and coloring – much more than her mother. He knew without question that she'd committed to memory every tree, rock, river and cliff in Coutre Province and could likely navigate every inch of it blind-folded, whereas his wife… well, his wife had no sense of direction to speak of, and though sensible in other things, had been known to become lost even in her own home. _Though,_ he thought, slightly amused, _it was only the once._

"Do I truly hate it so much as that?" she repeated his question back to him. "Your question could be a little more specific, Father." Still obviously seething, she chose to seat herself in the chair opposite his, an act that under other circumstances, would have been nothing unusual. Now, it seemed to indicate that she'd placed herself in opposition to him.

"Do I hate being away from home, the Province I have been trained to govern, but likely will see go to one of my sisters… or a steward until my own child is of age? Yes. Coutre Province is my home, and first in my heart above any other place in Sacoridia. This city, and indeed, this castle, do not even compare as far as I am concerned. Do I hate this exile? Without question. Did I hate my cousin parading me about the city as though I were for sale and he just awaited the perfect purchase price? Yes. I am not a 'thing,' Father, and deeply resented being treated as such. And yet, because you had made it so very clear that anything other than a perfect, quiet, demure Lady was unacceptable, it was that lady I became… to please you. All this, to get back into the graces of a man who hasn't truly _seen _me for over five years. In all that time, you've seen only what you've asked me to become. No, you've seen only what you _demanded_ I become… and it is not me."

She took a deep breath and continued on before he had time to comment. Whatever constraints had been keeping Estora from speech before were quite obviously gone.

"And the woman I've hidden behind that mask wishes to know why you've been keeping your own counsel, Father. Why have you been keeping matters of the Province to yourself, when you used to share them with me… when you cared enough to teach me how to lead? Before you answer that question, however – if you _can_ answer it – tell me what had you so disturbed when I encountered you in the hall… and keep in mind that you cannot leave this room until you do."

In this particular game of Intrigue, it was his daughter who was the victor, and Coutre knew it. With no other option open to him, he conceded… and told her everything that he had learned that day. When he was done, she looked at him, a look that damned him.

"An entire Clan is slaughtered, and all that concerns you is whether or not its most valiant daughter is sleeping with the King? Aeryc and Aeryon help us, Father, if you've nothing more important to think of than that. Did you believe me to be unaware of his love for her? I am not blind! Yet, I also know their restraint and discipline… and 'tis far greater than my own."

Coutre was certain the look on his face was one of shock, and that she'd seen it.

"Yes, Father," Estora said, her eyes almost daring him to comment. "You heard correctly, and as long as we're in a talking mood – and I'm effectively exiled from Coutre Province in any case – you may as well know all of it. The King does, though it was not without some encouragement that I told him. I would not begrudge him his love for Karigan G'ladheon, Father… because it would be hypocritical of me. I know what it is to love a Rider. I know what it is to love someone whose loyalty _must _be to Sacoridia above all else. More than anything, I know what it is to realize that Westrion has taken that someone into his care, and I would not wish that for the King. As for Karigan, it seems she's lost far too much already."

She paused for a moment, tears in her eyes that she did not allow to fall. Still, she waved off his attempts to speak. "My F'ryan's last mission," she said, grief, love and rage all warring within her eyes, "was Karigan's first. When F'ryan fell to Shawdell's black arrows, it was Karigan who picked up his message and continued on. It was Karigan who battled Shawdell at the Lost Lake, Karigan and the King who saved us all in the Throne Room… when you were not there. You had sent me to search out a husband, while you stayed at home. You missed seeing them, missed seeing a King so courageous he did not fear to humble himself before his brother if it would save his people."

She paused again, and this time, Coutre did not even attempt to speak. Her words were a condemnation of him. Had all his actions in these past, troubled years been in error?

"Would that my own father had half that courage. I know well that I am exiled from my home one way or another. Should I wed the King, I will stay here as he must, though he would not wish me so separated from my home as he is from his. Should I not wed the King, I suspect you will disown me and I would still be apart from Coutre Province. Thus, in the end, it makes little difference, save that becoming Queen would make me more of a target than I am already, and sentence two good friends to a misery they do not deserve. I would be none the happier for it. _Not_ marrying the King would diminish the threat considerably, free me from the responsibility of governing an entire _country_, allow me to see two friends happy… and – at least in some way – give me my life back."

At this, Coutre could stay silent no longer. Rising to his feet, a rage in his face that he knew the Weapons outside the door would not let him express, he moved toward his daughter. She, in turn, stood to meet him. She was nearly his height, tall for a woman, and he found himself with no great advantage over her. Her expression was serene for finally having told him, though he still could not understand her reasoning.

"Why?! Why would you give all of this up? You could be _Queen_, Estora, and you would throw it away in an attempt to put a common Rider in your place… a Rider the Council will _never_ sanction. Despite her deeds, child… yes, despite even the fact that she saved your life… she _is not noble_. She is less than you."

"No, Father." Estora shook her head, seeming to know some secret to which he'd not been made privy. "Didn't you hear yourself, when you were telling me what happened in the King's study? Karigan said that her sword was a family heirloom, that her family was a line that would serve as 'living reminders' of an ancient alliance. Now, Father, you who've sought to forge such an alliance between Coutre and Hillander should know well how such 'living reminders' come into being. And if that alliance was between Sacoridia and the Elt Wood, with the gifts being given by Santanara himself, the families involved must have been highly-born… on both sides. It would not matter how distant, Karigan's blood _is_ noble, as is her heart and mind… as are her actions."

Rarely had he seen this much fire and determination in his Estora's eyes, but he could not let her ruin all his plans. He would find some way to convince her that she was meant to be Queen, not that G'ladheon girl. The Rider, truly, had been an unforeseen obstacle, and he must find a way around it. So distracted was Lord Coutre by his thoughts, that he barely noticed Estora's next words.

"The King will send a scouting party, you said. I've no doubt that Karigan will be with them, regardless of the King's views on the matter. It is her Clan to be seen to. However, he will not wish to leave her unprotected… nor will he wish to make it obvious that he _is_ protecting her." A smile, a truly cunning smile, the likes of which he'd not seen on her face in many years, stretched its way across her lips.

"The King's bride-to-be, on the other hand, may have all the obvious protection she wishes… and right now, she wishes to accompany a friend on a less-than-pleasant trip to Corsa, even if it does mean waiting a little while to finish this conversation."

It took only a second for Coutre to understand Estora's meaning, and only half a second more for him to head to the door, in hopes of preventing what she had in mind. "Estora, you cannot go. I will not allow it. In fact, I forbid it."

"Father," she said, as she slipped past him and out into the hallway, "I don't recall asking your permission."


	9. Chapter 8

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

Great credit goes to LadyDarkStar for her continual help and encouragement with this story, and this chapter in particular.

_Chapter 8_

"What do you mean, the Rider wasn't there?" The man's voice was soft and cold, a menacing whisper in the dark hallways. In these interior rooms, containing no windows and at times, few torches, he felt safe enough speaking with his… employees. The likelihood of being noticed, even by Weapons, was slim, though he still kept his voice quiet and his eyes sharp.

"I mean, Sir, that she wasn't there. We got rid of everyone else, jus' like you wanted… but there wasn't no Greenie at the Festival. She never showed. Her father's dead 'nough; we even brung his ring back for you. His damn bodyguard was a dangerous son, that one… Swordmaster. Good thing skill with a blade ain't no protection against arrows, and the Pointies got them aplenty. Glad I didn't 'ave to face off with 'im, I was."

"Strange, I wasn't aware the Clan counted any Swordmasters in their number, even among the bodyguards."

"That's the weird thing, it is," the… man… before him answered. "I got in touch with some of me sources, see, after everything were taken care of… and they says as how this man… Marcus… he 'as the clan schoolteacher. Weren't no bodyguard. I'd say as he fought too damn well to be any teacher, Ya sure this Greenie's who ya think she is?"

"She's a problem, is what she is, Minks. An obstacle. She defeated the Eletian and the Sacor City sect of my compatriots… most of them, anyway. She has an unbelievably annoying habit of not dying when I want her to, and an even more annoying record of stumbling across our plans... thus, why I _want _her dead."

"Beggin' pardon, Sir, by why not just ambush her on a message errand, nice 'n' quick-like?"

"Minks, you know nothing. When she's on an errand, her guard is up. As much as I loathe the woman, I must admit that she has more than passing skill with a blade. I doubt any in your little band of thugs would be man enough to manage the job, and our Eletian counterparts seem… unwilling to see to her end on their own. Perhaps some have started to hear the rumors of who she is." _We cannot afford for them to discover what Shawdell realized the minute he touched her._

He could see the little man before him squint in the darkness. "And who might that be, Sir?"

"Now, Minks," he said, the vengeful chill evident in his voice. "That would be telling, wouldn't it? And her Clan was killed so that she would never find out, so that _no one_ would find out. It's obvious she doesn't know, yet… and if everyone who _does_ know is dead, who is left to tell her? If she can be made to join the rest of her Clan, then all will be as it should. But, Minks… do make sure that no one survived who was actually there, will you?"

He could see the man nod, and as Minks turned to leave, one final thought occurred to him. "Oh, Minks, where's the sword?"

"Sword, Sir?" The man could see the look of confusion on the murderer's face, clear enough despite the lack of light. "What sword? Weren't nothing special about the swords they was usin' to defend themselves… 'cept the schoolteacher's, with the Swordmaster's band."

"You fool." The scorn in his voice would have been clear to an idiot, but he wasn't certain Minks was that intelligent. "You could not have failed to notice this sword. It's reputed to be of such beauty that legends say it must have been a gift from a King… or perhaps the gods themselves. Our Eletian friend implied quite heavily that no Sacoridian smith could have made it, and that would leave only the Eletians, as far as he was concerned. I would suggest you keep your beady little eyes on the lookout for any blades that look to have been made by the Elt. It would be to your good fortune to get any such blades to me as quickly as you can."

He paused a moment, and spoke again just before Minks stepped into the corridor. "Oh, Minks," he said, "make no mistake. If you find this sword, and decide in your own _infinite_ wisdom to keep it for yourself or find someone offering a higher price for it… be aware that you won't have long to regret it. After all, if I can arrange the slaughter of an entire clan, what's one insignificant little man?"

Minks did not reply, choosing instead to scurry away while he still had the chance.

_The King's Study_

In the hour since Lord Coutre had left the room, Zachary had been unable to rid himself of a feeling of foreboding that came of wondering what the Eastern Lord was plotting. Karigan, who had at one point contented herself pacing the length of his study, was now seated on the settee again, running a hand through her sleeping cousin's hair. The King, on the other hand, had spent a good portion of that hour studying his Rider, whose eyes were serious and whose concerns rested heavily on her shoulders. He knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth.

"I have to go. They are my Clan, and no one has more right to see to them than I."

"I'm not debating that, Karigan… but I am not comfortable sending you there with just the scouting party. As the… last adult of your Clan, you would be far too tempting a target to the attackers if any of them are still in the area."

Her voice was quiet when she answered, though he couldn't tell if that was in deference to the sleeping child… or because of the subject of the conversation. "I would be a tempting target to them regardless, Sire, if things are as I suspect. The entire time I've served in the Green, I've not been able to get home even once for our Founding Day Festival. In fact, I've not been home at all, save for a few opportunities to stop there while on message errands. This year, the Captain told me I could go, and I wrote to my father to inform him of it. After Lady Estora's kidnapping, the Captain canceled all leaves, so that we would be available should the need arise for us. I wrote to my father again, but the letter wouldn't have reached him before the Festival. I was supposed to be there… and out of all the Founding Days since I entered service, all the days they could have attacked and gotten the vast majority of the Clan… why would they wait for this one? Why would they wait… unless they wanted me? I've spent every moment from the time Aidan and Lise arrive last night, wondering why it was they – whoever they are – didn't simply attack me on a message errand. Why go after my entire Clan?"

He reached for her, fingers brushing her cheek. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as hers. "You've reached some conclusion, haven't you?" In his mind, he thought he knew what that conclusion was.

"Someone knows my heritage," she responded, still quiet, still running her fingers through Noah's hair. "Someone knows, and wished to eliminate whatever threat they see in me… and silence whoever might spread the word. What I don't know is _why_ they would see me as a threat."

"Your mother wouldn't have mentioned anything to you… nothing you remember now?"

"Sire, my mother told me a great deal, most of which I can recall… but even the information that was locked behind that door had to be tempered and filtered in terms of what a four-year-old could understand. In other words, despite how much she _did_ tell me… there was quite a bit, I suspect, that she did _not_. I don't know who my enemies are. In these times, though, being under constant threat is… nothing new."

He sat beside her on the settee and held her close; she did not resist. _In this moment,_ his Blade whispered, _she needs the comfort just as much as thee, Firebrand. Greatly has her heart been taxed by these recent tragedies. And still she stands. Still she stands._

Much as he wanted to hold her to him and keep her there… he knew that she had to see to her Clan. Despite the danger, it would be cruel of him to keep her here, but he had the same need to see her safe that she had to go. Who could he send?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and he stood. Once more, his hand brushed Karigan's cheek, moving then to touch Noah's face… still as bruised and scratched as it had been the day before, but far cleaner. He would not begrudge this little one any moment of peaceful sleep that was granted to him. Letting his touch linger only for a moment, he moved to the door, only hoping that the visitor was not a returning Lord Coutre.

Estora was not surprised that the King opened his own door, not after what her father had told her. That lack of surprise didn't make it any easier for her to say what she needed to say. "Sire," she said, knowing that always to be a good start, "may we talk?"

He ushered her in, his eyes seeming to notice everything of consequence. His words, as always, were courteous. "Are you alright, Lady Estora? You look troubled."

"That, Highness, is… something of an understatement, considering I've just come from a long discussion with my father, one that I had to initiate and sustain, as he was most uncooperative." From the corner of her eye, she could see Karigan sitting on the settee, her attention clearly caught by Estora's statement.

"Lady?" she said.

Estora smiled slightly, remembering the look on her father's face, and caught Karigan's eye. "I think he got the point when I reminded him that I bear no resemblance to a horse, much less a particularly favored brood mare for whom he sought the perfect match. When he still objected to speaking with me, I reminded him that he had put me in a position to be Queen… and thus, quite able to enforce my will. Eventually, he told me what happened in this room, I essentially called him a coward… and depending on how things go, I may be disowned before all is said and done. There are more important things that concern me at the moment."

Crossing the study, she took a seat beside Karigan, looking over the Rider and the child next to her with a practiced eye. "He said the little one was a clansman?"

The eyes Estora looked into were grieving, but – for the moment – controlled. Karigan shook her head slightly. "He is that, Lady Estora. However, Noah is also my cousin. The last of my blood within the Clan, though I believe I have several relatives somewhere on Black Island. My father never spoke of them."

Estora could not find the words to express her sympathies to Karigan… or her fear that she may have done something less than wise in confronting her father. Still, she could not bring herself to regret any of it. She had said what needed to be said, all the feelings that had been building up in her for years, and she was prepared to face the full consequences of it later... whatever they may be.

"Father told me of the scouting party, and I've no doubt that you plan to join them," Estora said to Karigan, casting a look at the King as she continued. "I would think it fitting if the Crown sent a representative, wouldn't you?"

She could see the look of shock on the King's face, rare as it was that he would show emotion so openly. "Lady Estora, you cannot be suggesting…"

"I am, Sire. I am not blind; I've known how the two of you felt for some time. I've been there, Highness. I know that Karigan will go, and that you want to protect her. However, you cannot send the Weapons you would prefer; it would be too obvious and raise too many questions. If I go, you've a reason to send them… though, I think this time, I might choose to leave the side-saddle here."

The look on Karigan's face was one of confusion. "Estora… why are you doing this? It is not needed… appreciated, yes, but not needed. There's no reason to endanger yourself; I would not be unaccompanied. The scouting party would consist of proven warriors… and I would suspect more guards would remain out of sight, but never out of range."

"Karigan?" The King had moved ever closer, one hand resting – unconsciously, Estora thought – on the sleeping child, almost as though that child was his own.

"Somial and his _tiendan_ guarded the children to Lord L'Petrie's estates, all the while paying some special attention to Noah. What are the odds, I wonder, that those same _tiendan_ remained with the last three all the way here?"

"If they have, why haven't they made themselves known?"

Karigan looked to be about to speak, but then she paused, an odd look on her face. A slight smile graced her lips, as she set a hand to the hilt of the Blade at her side… the same Blade, Estora knew, that her father had described in great detail, having gotten a slightly closer look at it than he'd intended.

"They have, Sire, just now… and Somial could never be a threat to me. After all, no Wielder may harm another." That sentence spoke of a great deal that Estora had missed, but she was certain she could coax it out of Karigan eventually.

"They wait at the city gates for an invitation, Sire. They will not enter the city without your leave. Somial bears the equivalent of Mara's Blade, and my own let me know he was there, with his permission. He says that his _tiendan _will remain out of sight of the scouting party if it would make them more comfortable, but that he has no intention of leaving me unguarded against any magical attacks. He plans to protect me from his own people, Zachary."

Estora had the feeling they'd forgotten she was in the room, and she did not mind in the slightest. She could learn more from those who didn't realize she was listening.

"Invite them in, Karigan. I wish to see this group who would swear to your safety."


	10. Chapter 9

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

_Chapter 9_

A moment later, Karigan nodded to him. "It's done," she said, appearing half-lost in thought. Running her fingers one final time through Noah's hair, she leaned closer to wake him. For a time, Zachary was struck by a vision of how she could be with their children, and his breath caught in his throat. _This is not the time for such thoughts_.

"Noah can't come with me, Sire, and I will not make Aidan and Lise face that ride, again."

Zachary's answer was swift and sure. "Drent, I'm told, has already seen to the welfare of the older two. He muttered something about having known their father but didn't pause to give me any details."

"Strange." Karigan shook her head slightly, standing as she did. "Their father, Marcus Adair, was the Clan's schoolteacher. I can't see how he would have known Drent, though I think there was mention, once, that he'd been in the military. Perhaps they knew each other before Drent entered the Black Shields. That still leaves the question of Noah."

Out of the corner of his eye, the King saw Estora rise, and it startled him somewhat. He admitted to himself quite honestly that for a moment, he'd forgotten she was there. He could not allow himself to make that mistake often. For all that Estora's words confirmed that she was no more fond of this match than he, he could not afford to take anything for granted.

Estora approached Karigan and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You will not entrust Noah to my father, and I understand why. I cannot see to him because I go with you. The Riders, I suspect, look after him already, because he is your kin. However, you're forgetting someone."

Noah, wide awake, watched the people before him with fascinated, alert eyes, feet not having yet touched the floor. Looking at the young one, Zachary saw him as Estora must… a wounded, yet cherished child, closely wrapped in the King's greatcoat. He'd been awake long enough to know that Karigan would be leaving. And Zachary understood.

"Who do you want to stay with, Noah?"

The child, silent as he had been for most of his time in the castle, carefully separated himself from the greatcoat, slid off the settee, and made his way to the King… and Zachary – much as he'd done earlier that day – took the boy into his arms and held him close. "Alright, little one. Alright. You'll have what you wish. You must give me your word, though, that should I ask you to go with another, you will. Do I have your word, Noah? Do you promise?"

"Yes, Sire." That small, serious voice answered. "I promise." Zachary, in that moment, would not have traded the feel of those trusting arms wrapped about his neck for anything in the world.

Karigan's eyes expressed her gratitude as she reclaimed the boy a moment later. "They are entering the gates now, and will be in the throne room before long. I should get him settled."

"See that Willis knows him, Karigan, and knows that he will be staying with me. Fastion will be among those to accompany the scouting party. Riders will be your choice; you know best which of them are able to handle what you will see." He could feel the chains of his position wearing at his spirit, longing to go with her on this task, but kept here by duty.

Karigan nodded in response, and made her way slowly out of his study, dropping a light kiss on the boy's head as they passed through the doorway.

Estora, alone with the King, cast a careful glance after the Rider. Zachary saw her look to the greatcoat on the settee, lying there as if abandoned, and a smile came to her face. "Sire," she said, "my father's words in the Solarium led me to believe that Karigan found some comfort in this." She reached out a gentle hand to touch the greatcoat in question. "Was he correct?"

For all that he wasn't certain how she would take his response, even given her earlier words… he could not lie to her. "I believe she did, Lady Estora… and not for the first time." Her questioning look bid him continue. "When Rider Barracks burned, Lady Estora. Rather, when she returned. I, thinking that she'd already seen them, broke the news in a less than tactful manner. That evening ended much as this morning, with Karigan sleeping, covered by that very coat, and no dishonor on her part or mine."

Again, Estora smiled, her blue eyes understanding. "I doubt neither your honor nor hers, Sire; I merely wondered if it would not be a good idea to take this with us… as a comfort to her, should she have need of it."

Zachary returned her smile, certain that his gratitude to her was plain on his face. "Take it with my blessings, Lady Estora… but I would not wish to cause her more difficulty by way of the questions it would raise."

"The scouting party will be Weapons, Riders, certain soldiers truly loyal to Sacoridia… and apparently a few Eletians. Who among those would tell? You love her, Sire, and she you, and if you or something of yours eases her pain, there is no shame in it. If anyone dares comment, those of us who know Karigan well will set them straight."

She stood to leave his study, his whispered "Thank you" stopping her at the door. She turned to face him again, an earnest look on her face and a promise in her eyes.

"I swear to you, Sire, that I will find a way. This contract cannot stand, not when there is such a depth of feeling between you… and not when those who fight for Sacoridia already adore her. She is the Queen for you. I promise you, I will make my father see it."

Zachary, in his shock, could not form a response before Lady Estora left the room, his greatcoat in her arms.

A small private party awaited the arrival of the _tiendan_ in the throne room a short while later. The usually busy room had been emptied of all save the King, Lady Estora and several Weapons. Zachary knew that the Eletians would be joining them shortly and, despite Karigan's trust in Somial, he was not at his most relaxed. His gaze flickered to one side as he noticed Lord Governor Coutre enter the hall. He dearly hoped the other noble wouldn't make a scene. Zachary had neither the time nor the patience for it at present.

The King saw Estora's gaze also note her father, and the Lady – in what could only have been a deliberate move – took a step away from her position at his right. Before her father could notice, the doors to the hall opened, and a contingent of Riders entered, all dressed in their formal uniforms. Of the Riders, only Karigan and Mara were armed, the Elt-crafted Blades hanging from their hips. Zachary gestured for Karigan to take her place to his left, where she stood whenever she advised him, and as she did so, Estora walked behind him to take a position at _Karigan's_ left… and one step back, laying a supportive hand on the Rider's shoulder.

Zachary was certain Estora could feel the heat of her father's glare, but she did not move from her chosen place, only straightened her shoulders and looked straight ahead, standing tall.

Fastion stood silent watch near the dais, his sharp eyes taking due note of Lady Estora's actions, and knowing well what she meant by them. He appreciated her rather unexpected show of strength in the face of her father's obvious disapproval, and felt a hope bloom that there may yet be a way for his King and Karigan that did not involve shattering Sacoridia.

His attention was drawn back to the entrance as the Eletians entered the throne room, all unarmed… save one. From the corner of an eye, he saw his fellow Weapons approach the Eletian leader and signaled them to stand aside, half in a state of shock. _Karigan did not mention that the Eletians had sibling Blades to our own_. The Eletian's Blade was unmistakable in light of how well Fastion knew his own Blade now. Startled, and his face actually showing it, he looked to Karigan. She matched his gaze, let a hint of a grin curve one corner of her mouth… and winked.

_This is payback for that sparring match with the King, I know it is. Long in coming, but payback nonetheless_. Fastion took it gracefully, with a nod in her direction. The _tiendan _drew ever closer to the dais, stopping but a few feet from its base. Though he knew, without doubt, that no Wielder could harm another, still he tensed, wary, when the Eletian drew his Blade.

Appearing unaware of the tense Weapons poised within striking distance, he rested the point of the Blade on the floor before him, going to one knee before the mortal, Sacoridian king, his forehead touching the Blade's hilt. The throne room was a study in silence as every Elt accompanying him followed his lead.

After a brief moment that seemed longer, the Eletian Wielder raised his head, not otherwise moving from his subservient position before the King. "Greetings, Hillander King," he said, in a voice as musical as Shawdell's ever had been… yet somehow more pure and trustworthy. "I am Somial of Eletia, _tiendan_, and Wielder of one of the Three Blades of the Elt. Our Lady is sworn to you, and as she goes, so go we."

Had Fastion not himself been startled, he might have been better able to appreciate the look on Lord Governor Coutre's face. _This,_ the Weapon thought, _is not an action one takes for a _distant _descendant of an Eletian, but 'tis obvious to me the Lady of which he speaks is Karigan. Three Blades for Sacoridia, Three Blades for the Elt Wood… Kaedra's Blade is the anomaly, the only Blade tied to a bloodline. Kaedra's blood, her husband's blood… what am I missing?_

Fastion caught the King looking at Karigan, and her own glance in response, a glance that told him she'd confided far more to the King than anyone else who had been in the room the night before. Somehow, this fact above all failed to surprise him. With quiet, confidant steps, she moved forward, walking down the steps of the dais and over the runner lining the hall, stopping directly in front of Somial. Laying a hand on his shoulder, she spoke to him softly, so softly that Fastion could barely hear it… and what he did hear, he doubted.

It had sounded as though she had said, "Somial, you do not kneel to me. Do not _ever_ kneel to me. Rise, Wielder."

That Somial did rise to his feet shortly after she finished speaking only made the Weapon wonder. _They knelt to the King, this is true, but only as their Lady has… and only as she stood on the dais beside that King._ For some reason, Fastion found comfort in the fact that the oath had been made in Karigan's name, though unspoken, trusting it more than he would had they sworn in their own right.

Sheathing his Blade, Somial looked to those who followed him, and Fastion noted that they, too, had regained their feet, and stood silent, allowing their leader to speak for them. He looked first to Karigan, who had removed her hand from his shoulder as he stood. To one side, Fastion could see the Lord Governor's face begin to turn red with rage. _It seems Lord Coutre has noticed that they look to the Rider first… and his daughter not at all._

The eastern lord took a step toward the center of the room, only to find himself facing six pairs of eyes… each belonging to an Eletian. He might have been made nervous had he noticed the angered Weapons, but Fastion thought the fury radiating through the room had somehow escaped the lord. _Karigan may not be our Queen, but by the gods, she is our Sister… and that step he took was towards her, and with clenched fist, though I do not believe he realized it._ Still, Coutre would prove one to watch, and Fastion resolved that he would never be far from a Weapon's sight.

"Peace, Somial," Karigan said, once more laying a hand on his shoulder. "Lord Coutre is but… frustrated… at the events of the day and the lack of explanation regarding them. I am certain he means no harm."

Fastion watched as Karigan matched gazes with the Governor, and in the end, it was Lord Coutre who backed down, though not with a great deal of grace. "Of course not," he said, preserving what face he could. "What reason would I have to harm the woman who saved my daughter, noble Elt? I simply find myself lacking patience. The presence of Eletians here is rare, after all, and some of those visits have ended… poorly. I merely find myself wondering why Eletians would swear loyalty to a Sacoridian King. Is not your own King enough?"

Though obviously bristling at the insult to Santanara, Somial's voice was calm when he answered. "You misunderstand, Lord Governor. We swear allegiance to our Lady, and to King Zachary only _through_ her… but as she will never foreswear the Firebrand or Sacoridia, it's much the same."

Fastion looked to King Zachary, and saw the small, amused smirk that told him his King knew precisely what was occurring, and was quite content to watch the Lord Governor make a fool of himself.

"Are you saying," Coutre continued, "that your Lady has sworn loyalty to the King? That your Lady is this Rider?"

"Indeed she is, Lord Governor. Myself and my _tiendan_ are sworn always to follow the Guardian line, the Deisaria, living symbols of hope to Sacoridia and the Elt Wood. As the Guardian line is meant to protect both our countries… so are we meant to protect the Line. For the better part of two decades, we thought ourselves to have failed. We thought the Line gone from us for reasons that will not be explained in so public a place as this."

Coutre appeared confused. Whether he had been told of Karigan's Eletian ancestor, Fastion could not know, but Somial's words obviously mystified him. "Do you mean to tell me," the Lord Governor continued, showing far more emotion on his face than was customary, "that you would protect any descendant of this line, however distant?" The tone of his voice plainly told the Weapon that Coutre could not see the point of Eletians guarding a mortal. Or perhaps it was that he could not see any reason why someone of such noble bearing as Somial would protect a commoner.

There was a look on the Elt's face that Fastion would have called a smirk on anyone else, as he answered, "Indeed, Lord Coutre, we would protect any member of the Guardian Line, _however distant._ This Line is sacred to our King, reminders of an alliance that he will uphold. Should the Firebrand battle against Mornhavon, it will be with Santanara King at his side, as it was last time with Jonaeus. Our King remembers what it was to fight alongside mortals, and because they have not yet succeeded in erasing this Line from history, he will fight still. Indeed, he does not even hold Sacoridia entirely responsible for the deaths in which Sacoridians have played a part, for he felt an Eletian hand in the affairs as well. So long as that banner flies, that banner which proclaims one of the Deisaria in willing service to Sacoridia and the King, then Santanara and the Elt Wood will be the faithful allies of this land and her people, no matter the cost to us."

Then Somial paused and leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from Lord Coutre's ear, and his words too soft for Fastion to decipher even the smallest portion. Whatever it was that he said, the effect on the Lord Governor was a sight… all color bled from his face and he backed away from the Eletian as though creatures from all the hells were reaching out for him.


	11. Chapter 10

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes

_Chapter 10_

Captain Mapstone watched as Somial gave one last look to the shrinking noble before turning her attention fully to her Rider and her King. It didn't take her long to notice that the Eletian was taking great care to stay between Coutre and her Rider, acting – now that she thought on it – rather Weapon-like.

Laren wasn't certain whether or not she should be disturbed by that thought, but couldn't escape the niggling little feeling that there was quite a lot Sevraen never told her about his family. She had not failed to notice Lady Estora's actions, and knew without doubt that both Karigan and Zachary were aware of the other's feelings… and that Estora knew also, and fully supported them. Unfortunately, that meant little in the Captain's mind, as she had never _feared _Estora's reaction. It had always been Lord Governor Coutre who posed the larger threat, and certainly, he was _not_ pleased at the scene playing out before him.

Keeping a wary eye on the angry and shaken noble, she turned the remainder of her observational skills to the conversation being had between the Eletians, the King, and Karigan. Noting the facial expressions of the people involved, she was startled to note a small smile tugging at Somial's mouth.

"Too long has it been," he said, his melodic voice sweeping through the throne room, "since I have seen the work of our King's hands being wielded by Sacoridians. In truth, I am too young to have seen the last Wielder of the Blade of the King, too young indeed to have known any prior Sacoridian Wielder other than she who came before our Lady. To see these Blades now, Bonded to Wielders true… I cannot voice the hope it brings, for in Blades and Wielders lie the last chance for the Elt Wood."

Somial paused for a moment, standing as though he bore a great weight on his shoulders. Sighing lightly, he continued. "'Tis the last chance for Sacoridia as well, I think, for the Wall, despite the work being done on it now, can only hold for so long. It was never meant to stand forever, Firebrand King, merely long enough for Sacoridia and the Wood to recover – at least, in part – from the Cataclysm. Our King knew that the day would come when the strength of the Wall would be sabotaged… when it would fail. Mornhavon, in recent times, has found a way to free himself, partially, from the prison that his own weapon became, and a Mornhavon who is aware is more than a match for the Wall."

There was a passion in the Elt's voice as he spoke of days he could not possibly remember, but of which he'd doubtless been told as a young one. "'Twas not the Wall that defeated him last time, but an alliance of many kingdoms, mortal and eternal-born. The D'Yer Wall, despite the sacrifices made in building it, was meant more to hold Mornhavon's creations than the Black One himself, for magic is a tool that always he had wielded well… a tool that most in Sacoridia have forgotten how to use. Magic must fight magic, and if Sacoridia had not the use of magic, fighting Mornhavon would be akin to throwing pebbles at an armored knight."

As Laren and her Riders were well-aware of the existence of magic, and accepting of its uses, the Rider Captain could only presume that the Eletian's words were meant to stir minds other than her own. She could not help but be worried, however, at the thought that the Wall had never been strong enough to contain a Mornhavon who was awake. _How, then, had he been rendered asleep, or powerless? How had they done it… and can it be repeated?_ Pausing a moment, another thought occurred to her, as she remembered some of Karigan's words from the night before. _The Blades were crafted by Kaedra's husband, and yet…_

…_Somial stated that it had been long since he had seen "the work of our King's hands."_ Having remained still in his position beside the dais, Fastion could see a look come over Captain Mapstone's face that spoke of both of them making the same connection. _Kaedra's husband was not just an Eletian; he was the Eletian _King_. The Guardian Line, the Line of the Deisaria… is Santanara's own. _

The Weapon could see the contemplative look on the face of his King, as he thought on the Eletian's words. "_Tiendan_ Somial," he said, his voice as controlled as ever it had been, "it is obvious that the people of the Wood know far more of magic than Sacoridia has remembered over the many years since the Long War. Information has come to me, in fact, which would suggest that the Sacoridian people of old, weary of battle and fearful of that weapon which Mornhavon used with such great and terrible skill, did everything within their power to destroy magic, in the hopes that it could not be used against them again."

"I have been told, Sire, that they did do such," Somial responded, sorrow clear in his voice, though Fastion could not tell whether he grieved for the lost people of the Sacor Clans, the lost among his own people, or both. "They did not know. Magic itself – though contained – cannot be destroyed, only the knowledge of it, and you have seen what harm comes of being ignorant of the old ways."

Fastion, glancing again to the dais, saw a flash of sorrow in Karigan's eyes, and remembered the tales of the warded tomb, the freed wraith… and the Riders, and friends, who had died fighting alongside Karigan because warnings had been ignored and wards had failed. _Ignored, _he thought, _because no one remembered what they meant._ Deep inside, he knew the truth of Somial's words. Through his Blade, he knew the Eletian spoke no falsehood, and that the months, perhaps years, before them would be bleak indeed. Somial had spoken of hope, though… hope of a chance in this fight, because of the Blades that Karigan had shown to the world again, and because of the Chosen who bore them.

His attention was drawn from the conversation by movement nearly at the edge of his vision. Glancing slightly to the side, the rest of his body motionless, he saw Lord Governor Coutre making his way out of the throne room, moving with unusual stealth. A slight motion of the Weapon's hand set one of his Brothers to follow the departing lord, no one else, he was certain, noting the change in the shadows as his fellow Weapon left the hall.

Shaken and angry, Lord Governor Coutre stalked toward his suite, knowing that he had to leave or risk making a scene. Everything that he had planned was crumbling to dust at his feet, and he wasn't at all certain there was any way to save it. Pausing a moment, he took a deep breath to settle himself before continuing on to his rooms. Even given the conversation he'd had with his daughter, he couldn't help but be astounded at her actions in the throne room… he hadn't thought she'd declare her support for the Rider so publicly as that, and he had little that would defend against it. Despite what his nephew had said to the King, the Eastern Provinces would not follow him if his own daughter stood in opposition… if she refused to marry the King.

Ignoring the curious looks he was getting from courtiers and castle servants, he pushed through the doors to his suites, stopping only when he realized none of his family was present. _Apparently, my wife and younger daughters still amuse themselves at the market, as Estora suggested._ Though he'd been startled at the silence, now he was grateful. His wife, long as their marriage had been, would have known instantly that something was wrong. He wasn't certain if she would have _mentioned_ it, but she would have noticed.

Pacing around the suites, he walked into his temporary study and paused when he noticed a small box on his desk that had not been there when last he'd been in the room. Placed on top of the box was a small piece of his wife's stationary, that read, "Husband… a small gift."

Temporarily distracted from his focus on Estora's actions, Coutre picked up the box and opened it to see a lovely gold ring, suitable for a man's hand. Etched into the band – in what he could only presume was a symbol of Clan Coutre's seafaring heritage – was a ship depicted at full sail, on the open ocean.

Touched by his wife's thoughtfulness, he did not hesitate to slip the ring on his right hand. Yet as he did so, for some reason he could not explain even to himself, he shivered, and in the back of his mind, Lord Coutre heard again the harshly whispered words of the Eletian, Somial.

"_I have watched you, Lord Governor, and seen a lust for power grow behind your eyes. Far better for you if you see our Lady for who she is and do not seek to do her any injury. Of all the beings in Sacoridia or the Wood, only one individual carries within her veins the blood of all four of those critical to Mornhavon's defeat during what you call the Long War. Within that _**common** _Rider flows the blood of Sacoridian and Eletian royalty, and regardless of whether the connection to those royal ancestors is distant or near, still she would be precious to us. Do you not see, Lord Coutre? Look about you, look to the shadows, and see the forms and faces of the Black Shields, angered at your treatment of their Sister-in-Arms. Understand this and understand it well, Lord, as it is the only warning you will receive from me. Should you seek to harm this woman – and your manner makes it __evident that you have, at the least, considered that course of action – you will not have long to regret it. There will be nowhere you can hide from those – both Sacoridian and Eletian – who would wish to shed your blood in repayment for hers. No friend will open his door to you, no innkeeper agree to serve and shelter you, no guard defend you… not for actions you would take against her. Remember that."_


	12. Chapter 11

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

A/N: This chapter is quite a bit longer than my others; I just didn't want to split it up. There is quite a lot of information in the chapter, so there's no harm in reading it more than once to catch all the hints (insert grin here). I also wanted to apologize for the wait. As always, Real Life is overjoyed at any chance to interfere with my writing. Enjoy.

_Chapter 11_

It was a quiet party that set out the next morning, each member of it for the moment keeping his or her own counsel. The Sacoridian soldiers were wary of the Eletians, the Eletians couldn't care less and Karigan simply had no wish to be caught in the middle. If the Weapons and Riders were as uneasy as the soldiers, no one made mention of it. They set their horses at a good, steady pace – quick, but not blisteringly so – and headed to Corsa. Karigan knew that there would be several days of traveling ahead of them, and settled in for a long ride, keeping an eye on Estora, mounted on a gelding chosen from the Rider stables, a former Cavalry horse. While Karigan knew the gelding was no match in bloodline to the mare that had been killed, at least he was battle-trained, and wouldn't flinch in combat. She trusted him to keep Estora safe by keeping his head when it counted… even if he wasn't a proper messenger horse.

Just off to her right was Somial, keeping a close eye on her – as she was certain her grandfather had directed – and yet, somehow also managing to be alert to the area around them. Karigan knew their group would draw attention, but didn't think any raiding parties would attempt to interfere with their journey; they were Weapons, Riders, soldiers and Eletians, all well-armed and intimidating. Thus, Karigan could feel fairly certain that any attacks on the party would be carried out by the same individuals who had slaughtered – or ordered the slaughter of – her Clan and kin. A part of her wished for such a conflict, a chance to touch blades with those responsible for her father's death. Another part of her remembered that the remaining members of her Clan had to come first… and that vengeance would come in its own time. Still…

A hand on her shoulder took her attention from her own thoughts, and she turned to look at the Eletian who'd played a significant role in them. "My Lady," he said, "something concerns you?"

"That's one way of putting it, my friend," she responded, knowing that he could hear her – and likely Fastion, to her left – but that her quiet response would be too soft for anyone else to notice. "It's nothing new, just the same thoughts that have been going through my head since Aidan, Lise and Noah came to Sacor City. My father could have broken the spell, so why didn't he tell me? Why was he always so set against magic, when it was what kept me safe?"

Somial did not answer immediately, giving her a look that she could not interpret. "I have an idea, my Lady," he said, "but let it wait until we camp for the night. It is not something best discussed from the back of a horse."

Karigan answered him with a nod, returning her attention to the journey and her other traveling companions. Fastion, Rory and Donal were the Weapons she knew best, though they weren't the only Weapons in the party. Connly – and, remarkably enough, Ben, on the one horse he could tolerate – were the whole of the Rider presence, aside from Karigan. Sergeant Brexton – one of Captain Able's friends, who had never forgiven himself for being on leave when Sacor City fell to Amilton – led the military contingent. And then there was Estora, dressed again in Rider Green, who had elected to leave her servants at the castle, and looked rather more secure sitting astride her current mount than she had sitting side-saddle on the mare that had been killed, courtesy of her kidnappers. _Or rather, my attempt to draw them away from her_, Karigan thought. One of the regrets she'd had was not being able to save the mare, who had been a valiant horse, despite her inexperience with combat.

Looking more closely at Estora, Karigan could not help noticing an uneasy air about her, and she moved Condor nearer in an attempt to discern the cause. They were nearly to a suitable place to camp for the night before the Rider realized the problem. Estora wasn't armed, and it was making her nervous.

The soldiers and Eletians set about preparing their camp, and – as they politely refused all Rider and Weapon offers of help – Karigan found herself with little to do other than tend to Condor and see to Estora. Her Blade hanging comfortably from her hip and in easy reach, she set about giving her partner some well-deserved rest and food, as well as a good brushing. She smiled as he leaned into her brush strokes, groaning in pleasure as she hit the itchy spots. With one last pat, she left Condor to his food, gathered her gear and made her way to the prepared campfire. There were no tents as such, the party choosing to travel light and fast, though the soldiers and Eletians had – quickly and expertly – constructed a series of make-shift lean-tos that would serve as adequate shelter if it started to rain.

Gathering one particular item from her gear, she made her way to Estora, still standing by her borrowed horse. Estora was leaning into her mount, and he wasn't objecting in the slightest. The gray gelding – Shade – had apparently grown quite fond of the noblewoman, and was quite complacently standing in the picket line with his muzzle on her shoulder, every sighing breath making loose strands of blond hair dance. In that moment, Karigan thought Estora looked every inch the Rider… save for the lack of a brooch

Karigan kept her voice quiet, in an effort to avoid startling her friend. "Estora?" The other woman turned to face her, her hand still resting on Shade's neck, the wary look in her eyes showing that she had been very lost in thought.

"Karigan?" Estora looked a little tired, but not too much so, and Karigan was happy at how well she'd held up under the strain… and more than a little grateful for her friend's support. The least she could do was return some of it, in her own way.

"It's almost time to eat," she said, drawing Estora a little closer to the fire. "First, though, I wanted to give you something. You see… I noticed that you were a little uneasy on the ride, and realized that you were the only one without a weapon, other than an eating dagger."

Karigan smiled quickly, as much as she could at the moment, before continuing. "I, on the other hand, have two swords, and the only Blade I'll need from this point on is the one that was my mother's before it was mine. The problem is… that leaves me with one sword that I would never use, and as it's a good blade and well-crafted, it deserves more than a decorative position on a wall. Therefore, it's only right that a sword without a bearer be matched to a woman who has no sword, don't you think?"

Estora opened her mouth to speak, pausing as Karigan lifted the blade to her. Silent, she looked at the offered saber as the Rider continued to speak. "And don't protest that you don't know how to use a blade; you will soon enough, even if I have to teach you myself. Though, I don't think you'd be too fond of having me for a teacher, and Master Drent would likely object – loudly – to the thought of me teaching anyone, as I'm not done with my own training, yet. There are, however, several Swordmasters in this company, and when we return, I'd recommend seeking Arms Master Gresia. Even if you don't think you'll ever need it after this point, learning to defend yourself will help with the nightmares."

"How…"

"Did I know?" Karigan chuckled slightly, though it was not a happy sound. "Did you think me so brave that I wouldn't have them? I know the look, Estora, because I've seen it far too often in the mirror."

A look of resignation and acceptance on her face, Estora took the Rider saber and held it close. For her sake, Karigan hoped that the mere presence of F'ryan's sword could ward off some of the dreams that troubled Estora, though she wasn't sure that even the strength of Kaedra's Blade could help with her own nightmares. Together, the two women headed to a space by the campfire and some decent food.

"You didn't have to do this, Karigan." The noblewoman's eyes were still haunted, but there was a touch of relief in them, an emotion that only grew as she removed her own belt and fastened the swordbelt and saber in its place.

"True enough, I could have kept it," Karigan said, gathering food for herself and making certain that Estora followed, though she didn't believe either of them wanted to eat. "What purpose would it have served? Given a choice between the saber and Kaedra's Blade… well, there _is_ no choice. The Blade will always be first to hand. And while I know that there are other Riders who would be willing to make use of the saber, no one would appreciate it quite so much as you. And if we're speaking of what we didn't _have_ to do, you didn't have to come… and I cannot even begin to tell you how much I appreciate that you did."

Despite the audience, Karigan did not resist her friend's hug, knowing she needed it, and being unwilling to continue shouldering this burden on her own. She had Zachary, she knew… and with Estora's blessing, given her actions in the throne room, but that did not mean she would refuse the support of friends. Truly, she wasn't certain if she could have managed this journey without them.

Evening came upon them quickly, and it wasn't long before Karigan found herself bedding down near the fire. It didn't look like rain, this night, and she had no wish to be under shelter and even slightly confined. The soldiers maintained the fire quietly, and little time passed before the familiar crackling lured her into sleep, forgetful of the conversation she'd meant to have with Somial.

Estora had placed most of her gear in a nearby lean-to, concerned little about herself at the moment, and preferring to be – more or less – alone with her thoughts. Her hand rested on the hilt of F'ryan's saber and she found comfort in it, almost as though F'ryan stood near her. _She's right… I must learn to defend myself, _she thought. _There will not always be someone near with the ability or the wish to defend me. Would I have expected my father to be so lacking in martial skill as I? Could he have held the respect of the people in our province without some such skill? It is Coutre, and extremely independent… and yet, I think I knew better how to fight when I was a child than I do now. It has been made clear to me that I should have kept up with such training, for it is of benefit… and fewer of my people chance death when the one they protect can – at least, in part – protect herself._

She sighed, raising her eyes to the stars high above. _Training it is, then. F'ryan was a Swordmaster Initiate and Karigan is that now. Perhaps their history with this blade will be some inspiration to me._

Glancing toward her sleeping friend, Estora was startled to see tears slowly rolling down the Rider's face, eyes shut tighter than sleep would warrant, set in a grimace of pain. A whisper reached the noblewoman's ears, but Estora could not tell what haunted Karigan's sleep from those murmurs. She did, however, know what might chase away the nightmares. Looking about, she locked eyes with first Fastion, then Sergeant Brexton, then Connly – awake, not far from a slumbering Ben. Finally, she looked to the Eletian Somial.

Her gaze as chilled and commanding as she could make it, she whispered to them, "Watch if you will, but say nothing of this… not yet." Turning her back on them, she moved to her saddlebags and removed the King's greatcoat. With soft steps, she approached her friend, taking care to touch her only lightly as she draped the blue greatcoat over Karigan and tugged it up over her shoulders. She remembered well her father's tale, and had no wish to repeat his experience with Kaedra's Blade.

Sitting back near the fire once more, she watched as some part of the sleeping Rider's mind took notice of the coat, a hand reaching out to tug it closer still and a face burying itself in the fabric until it had soaked up the tears. Bit by bit, the Rider eased into a more restful sleep… and one by one, the watchful group turned away and went back to their duties or sleep, in turn.

Estora remained on a watch of her own making, strangely restless and caught up in her thoughts once more. It was only a member of the party speaking to her that brought her mind back to the world.

"You do not sleep, Lady Estora?" The soft, musical voice behind her would have startled her, had she not already become somewhat accustomed to the sound of it on their journey. The Eletian and Karigan had spoken often, voices low, and she could not help but be caught up in the tone of the conversations, though she'd not been able to make out the words.

"No, Somial," she answered. "I do not. I'd prefer to keep watch over a grieving friend this night."

Estora paused, her eyes scanning the sky full of stars… for what, she could not say. "Somial, if it would not cause offense, would you tell me how it was that you came to be outside Sacor City walls… how it was that Eletian _tiendan_ swore loyalty to a Sacoridian King? Rather, why did you swear fealty to Karigan, who would never forswear the King?"

"There is no offense, Lady Estora, though it is rather a long tale. You might wish to have something warm to drink while I tell it." It was no surprise to her when he offered her a cup of something hot; at first sip, it seemed to be a tea of some sort, though she could not tell what kind. One part of her said she should be wary, but another part whispered that Karigan trusted this one, despite the Rider's less than cordial experiences with Eletians. If Karigan trusted him, even after all that, how could Estora do any less?

With the _tiendan_ seated beside her, both Somial and Estora kept their eyes on the sleeping Karigan, peaceful for the moment under the shield of the King's greatcoat. His eyes turned always toward the Rider, Somial began to speak.

"Just over two centuries ago, our King's elder son, the only son born of his beloved first wife, wed. This Lady was not a great love of the High Prince – Sevraen, he was called – though she was cared for deeply, as the two had been childhood friends. They could speak of anything with one another, and were the greatest of companions. More importantly, she was eternal-born, as all Eletians, which meant that the bloodline of the King would not be further diluted by mortal blood. For though Kaedra, our King's Sacoridian, _mortal_ wife was loved by many, there were some greatly displeased at the idea of a half-blood on the Eletian throne. The soul-bond mattered nothing to them."

Seeing the questioning look on Lady Estora's face, Somial explained. "A soul-bond is a rare thing, even among Eletians. It is a blessing, a mark of favor from our gods. There was surprise enough, it is told, that there was a soul-bonded mortal pair – the first High King and the First Rider, Jonaeus and Lil. Surprise again… and in some cases, horror, when it was discovered that our King was soul-bonded to their very mortal daughter. A thing meant to be a blessing, a herald of powerful children that would lead Eletia in times of peace, had become something not even the Alluvium could understand. When Argenthyne fell, it was thought that such children, blessed by Laurelyn, would strengthen Eletia again… would restore Argenthyne to us. There were many who could not see how this would happen… if the children in question were not entirely Eletian."

Somial sighed, and Estora knew that parts of the tale would not be happy. "Of those who doubted," he said, "some were comforted by the fact that the Prince Sevraen took an Eletian to wife… not a mortal. Others… I suspect others were not so pleased, though there is no proof. Late one evening, as our High Prince's wife was out walking, not long after the announcement had been made that she was with child… she and her High _Tiendan_ guards were set upon and slaughtered by creatures of the Veil – not creatures who had escaped the Wall, but descendants of the few who had never been captured to be contained within it."

Estora's breath caught, startled as she was by the sorrow in the Eletian's eyes… but she did not interrupt him. "My father was one of those guards," Somial continued. "My mother had perished in a similar attack some months prior. I do not think it coincidence that she'd been wearing a cloak given to her by our High Prince's Lady wife. I believe someone thought my mother to be the Lady… though, even today, there is no proof. I was barely more than an infant at the time, and it was Prince Sevraen's twin – the High Princess Iolanthe – who took me as her own to raise."

Estora shook her head slightly, enthralled by the story, but not seeing the connection to Karigan. He smiled and continued. "Many years later, when the Princess Iolanthe – the only mother I've ever known – found her soul-bonded in a mortal, the Alluvium was less than pleased. They were not willing to allow the thinning of Laurelyn's line with mortal blood, _yet again_, and it was only our King's intervention that settled them. Our King, in his wisdom, reminded the Alluvium that the soul-bonding of two individuals is not something over which we have control. If our gods have decreed it, there must be a purpose. And so, she was allowed to marry him, though for his own sake, his Sacoridian name was kept secret. The Alluvium, for all their knowledge, did not know that."

Somial paused for a moment in his telling of the tale, rising quickly to his feet while motioning for the Lady Estora to remain where she sat. She could only presume he'd heard something and her heart beat the faster for it. Despite her bravery in the face of her father, she had to admit to feeling somewhat less than secure in this instant, even with F'ryan's saber at her side. However, it was not long before he returned, reassuring her with a look that it had been nothing of import.

Upon resuming his seat, he continued the tale as though there'd been no interruption, once more turning his eyes to look upon the sleeping Karigan. "Some short years later, Iolanthe – who went by another name when in Sacoridia – bore a child to her mortal husband. This child, this daughter, was given her name by our King, in honor of two women who had given him great gifts – his mother, Laurelyn, who gifted him with life, and his great friend Lillieth, who had given that same gift to his beloved Kaedra, and thus, blessed our King and the world with her presence. Liluyn, our King called the child. Mortal-born she was, and he grieved for that even then… but for all that, she was stronger than her mother. Magic flowed through and nourished our little hope… so much magic, no one could understand how a mortal body could handle it. It was in our little Lil that our King saw the return of Argenthyne."

He smiled again, a quick chuckle escaping. "You would have no way of knowing this, Lady, but our Liluyn once broke Prince Amilton's nose, when she was but three. She swore it was an accident, yet… if it was such, it was certainly fortuitous."

"How did she…?"

"Come to meet the Prince?"

"Well, yes," Estora answered, astonished. That mysterious smile played about Somial's lips one more time.

"Iolanthe was a great friend to your Queen Isen and visited often. At this particular visit, she brought Liluyn, who was rather intrigued with the Queen's younger grandson, Zachary, despite the fact that there was some years difference in their ages. She insisted on following him all day long, much to Queen Isen's amusement. Nothing was thought of it, until later, when she – in a rare moment out of young Zachary's shadow – stumbled upon Prince Amilton seeking his own variety of amusement bringing pain to his brother's dogs. Liluyn, headstrong as she was even then, took it into her mind to stop him. To say that Amilton was surprised at being attacked by an outraged three-year-old would be understating the moment, but his surprise did not last for long. He, with his lust for cruelty, found a much more attractive target in the child than he had in the dogs. He lifted Liluyn up and looked in her eyes. What he was planning, I do not know, but he was not expecting her tiny foot to meet his Royal nose with a rather distinctive crunch."

Estora struggled to keep the sound of her laughter from waking the sleeping camp. Amilton… bested by a child! She would have loved to see that. Somial smiled, yet again, and reached over to pull the cherished greatcoat closer around the shoulders of the sleeping Karigan, who murmured something Estora could not hear, and held the greatcoat closer still.

"Amilton, furious, threw Liluyn from him, in a direction such that she would have hit the wall of the Keep with a great deal of force… had young Zachary not caught her and held her safely to him. It was then that Queen Isen and the High Princess Iolanthe saw the first hints of the Firebrand Zachary would become, for he placed our Liluyn on her feet beside him, and warned Amilton that he would allow no harm to come to her. They were nearly to blows when the Black Shields stopped them, not having been certain how best to step in prior to that point. After that confrontation, it became quite clear that the young Firebrand was no more willing to let Liluyn out of his sight than she was to let him out of hers. It was not long before our Lady realized that the two were soul-bonded, though she'd never known a soul-bonded pair to find each other at so young an age. It was your Queen Isen that brought forth the idea of a betrothal between the two. It was, she said, the easiest way to make certain that no one would try to separate them."

_But if he was betrothed…_ Estora thought. "What happened?"

This time, the Elt's sorrow was such that he appeared unable to prevent tears from making their way down his face, catching the light of the moon above them, and appearing to make the _tiendan_ even more otherworldly than he had at first seemed. Visibly gathering himself, he set out on what Estora presumed to be the final portion of the tale. She thought there could not possibly be more tragedy in it, and yet…

"The High Prince Sevraen, who left behind neither wife nor child, fell to a band of men we suspect were hired precisely to that purpose, and but a few months later, Iolanthe also was taken from us, as well as the child she carried. Liluyn was cut down at her side… or so we thought. We have spent years in mourning for our lost hope. Kaedra's Line was gone from us, all hope for Argenthyne spent on the ground with their life's blood. It has, in a very short amount of time, as Eletians see things, made many among us quite bitter. Many have chosen Sleep where they would have remained among the Waking had even one of the twins survived… had Liluyn survived. We had not thought ever to have such hope again."

"Have you that hope now?" Estora's voice was soft in deference to the emotion of the tale and the stillness of the night.

"Indeed, my Lady, I do, for I know what many of my countrymen do not, as yet. Liluyn was not dead, only hidden… to such an extent that not even _she_ knew who she was. It is testament to someone's sense of humor, I think, that the same foe she and the Firebrand faced side-by-side as children is the foe that brought her to him as a woman. Were it not for Amilton's machinations, our hope may not have found her way to Sacor City and the Firebrand for some time, by which point, he might already have married you. He would never understand why he felt that something was missing, why he was not whole. Even now, they do not fully realize that they have every right to feel as they do… that it was decreed by those far more ancient than either Sacoridia or the Wood."

It did not take Estora long to understand what it was the Eletian was saying. "It's Karigan, isn't it? Liluyn… Santanara's granddaughter and the King's proper betrothed… is Karigan."

"Have you any doubt of it, Lady Estora? Only the feel of him brings her comfort now. You did well, thinking to bring the Firebrand's greatcoat, and for that, you have my thanks, many times over. I dislike seeing my Heart-Sister suffer."

Just a few steps away, the source of the earlier noise stood in silence and shock. Of the two men, one in green and one in black, the first could barely believe what he'd heard. When a shocked Connly glanced at his companion, however, the look on Fastion's face was not one of surprise, but triumph… almost as though he'd known or suspected the closer connection between Karigan and the Eletians and had simply been awaiting proof. With a slight shake of his head, Connly did what he must – what the Eletian must have known the Rider would do when he'd spotted them earlier – he contacted Trace, and told her the whole of the tale. What the King would do with the information was up to him, but Connly had his suspicions, given the presence of that King's own greatcoat.

_No one said it would be boring._


	13. Chapter 12

See Prologue for Disclaimer and other Author's Notes.

A/N: I am truly sorry for the delay in posting. Real Life has not been much of a friend lately.

Also, as _Ari-matiel, _according to _First Rider's Call_, means "Prince" in Eletian, I have decided (with LdyDarkStr's help) that _Arienne-matiel _means "Princess" (at least until KB tells us otherwise).

Chapter 12

_Betrothed. Santara's granddaughter and _the King's proper betrothed_. Why didn't she tell me? Or… was this the memory she referred to as a possible daydream? _Does _she even remember?_ The King's thoughts whirled through his head in a confused dance, prompted by the story Rider Burns had just finished relating to him. Gathering those thoughts, he took in the sight of the trusted few in the room with him; under other circumstances, he might have been amused at the look of shock on Laren's face. Rider Burns, he was presuming, had conquered her surprise prior to reporting to him… or at the least, hid it well.

Zachary half-closed his eyes in thought. Here, if he proceeded carefully, was the way out of the contract that no one wanted… save perhaps Lord Governor Coutre. First, however, he must find the betrothal contract that bound him to his beloved in the legal sense. With that in hand, and proof that Karigan and Liluyn were the same person, no one on the Council would be able to deny them. _I am hers and she is mine, and when the first contract is found, Coutre's objections will be meaningless in the eyes of the other lords._ Still, he had to quiet the worried whisper in the back of his mind, the one that said, 'And if he breaks from Sacoridia as threatened? What then?'

Taking note of those who shared his study with him at the moment, he motioned to Willis, asking him to summon a Green Foot messenger that he knew to be waiting just outside the door. A quick word to the young boy sent him scurrying to find Master Archivist Brown, someone the King knew to be a friend of sorts to Karigan… or, if not a friend, at least grateful for her actions in helping to rid Sacor City of the blight that was Weldon Spurlock. Zachary wasn't expecting either man or messenger to return quickly, though, as the archivist would – more than likely – have to be woken from a sound sleep.

For all the troubling thoughts making themselves known to him, Zachary could not prevent a grin from tugging at his lips. _Perhaps, for once, my heart and my duty can point toward the same path?_

Slowly, an awareness grew in the back of his mind and – seeking it – he began to ignore what little conversation was going on around him. He knew this feeling. _Karigan?_

Her mental voice, when it responded, gave him the idea that she'd been sleeping; that didn't surprise him, as it was very early in the morning, not yet daybreak. _Sire… is something wrong?_

_No, Kari, but I've just heard an extremely interesting tale relayed to me by Connly, via Rider Burns. According to Connly, you were sleeping, so you may not have heard it… something about my grandmother and your mother coming to an agreement?_ Had she been in the room with him, he was certain that she would have noticed a teasing glint in his eyes.

He felt her shock, the transition from half-asleep to fully alert. The spike of pain that followed surprised him, though. _Kari?_

_Ouch. I really have to remember not to roll over when I'm laying next to small, sharp rocks._ There was laughter in her voice as she said it, and Zachary struggled to hide his amusement, though he was grateful that Karigan was finding something to laugh at.

There was a pause in the conversation, and Zachary let it be, knowing that Karigan was gathering her thoughts, that she'd had much to occupy them lately. He noted the positions of those in the room with him, all of them either standing quietly – Willis – or conversing among themselves at a whisper – Laren and Rider Burns. He could only find himself grateful that they'd noticed his preoccupation and decided – presumably – to wait until Archivist Brown arrived before disturbing him.

_Truly, they arranged it?_ Karigan's mental voice, when she continued the conversation, was soft, strangely tentative. He knew how she felt. _I wasn't imagining it?_

_No, you weren't imagining it. It was no daydream. Somial knew of it and told Estora while you slept. Connly overheard and made certain I was informed. Now, all that remains is to find the proof. With that, not even Lord Governor Coutre could protest._ Here, he paused, uncertain how to judge the myriad feelings coming from Karigan at the moment. _Unless,_ he thought, _you object?_

Her answer was instantaneous and reassuring. _Never! It's just that there's so much to do before I can even _begin _to think about that. It seems this is going so quickly, even given how long I've known you… Find your proof, Zachary, and we can deal with the situation _together_, when I come home. _

A knock at the door heralded Dakrias Brown's arrival, and Zachary mentally voiced apologies for having to cut short his conversation with Karigan to return his thoughts to the room. Karigan's reply was silent, but tender, as she distanced herself to see to her own business while Zachary took care of the matter before him.

Karigan sat up, pulling her blankets around her for a moment to ward off the morning chill, her fingers touching something that – while warm – was most certainly _not_ a blanket. All the same, it felt familiar; she knew this fabric. Smiling, she carefully gathered the King's greatcoat – _Zachary's_ greatcoat – folded it and placed it in her pack with her bedding. At the moment, the mystery of who had brought it didn't matter; she was simply grateful to have it with her.

Karigan let her eyes wander about the camp, taking note of who slept and who didn't. Her first bit of business for the day was seeing to the horses, and letting her fellow Riders get a bit more sleep. It didn't take long to see them fed and Condor groomed, though she was kept from doing more by the actions of several of the Eletians traveling with them, who took over the care of the rest of the horses while she saw to her partner.

Determined to steal a little privacy for herself, she strode to a watchful Rory. A quick word to him before she headed to a nearby stream to wash up ensured that the more protective members of the party wouldn't worry too much at her temporary absence. She finished quickly – there was too much to think about and do today for her to delay – and was soon back in camp and helping to prepare breakfast in the light of the rising sun, despite protest from the Eletian contingent.

A quiet look and word from her bid them hold their peace and allow her the distraction provided by the work, since they had interrupted her other tasks. Between the lot of them – experienced travelers, all – food was prepared in short order, and she was sitting back with a plate, watching the camp wake. Fastion, who'd had first watch the night before, was also the first to wake in response to the smell of food, and he quickly joined her with a plate of his own and a strangely smug look on his face.

"Highness." The glint in his eyes was teasing, and one that she knew well. Regardless, she had no intention of letting him spread that bit of mirth.

"Don't start, Fastion. I've never been one for titles, and you know it."

Still with that unholy gleam, the Weapon pressed on, "And the betrothal…?"

"Will be discussed when we get home; now isn't the time for it." She sighed and leaned back against a tree. "Even if it was the time, Fastion, I don't want that formality from you. We've been through too much together, my friend, protecting that one we both love in our own ways. I call you 'Brother,' and I don't want the distance of court behavior between us… even if we do manage to find proof of the betrothal. You will always be family."

He, silent once again, laid a hand upon her shoulder, and she leaned into the warmth of it for a moment before it moved to rest lightly on the ground. Fastion then gained his feet and offered that hand to her again, pulling her up to stand beside him.

"Come, little sister," he said, a more serious cast to his features… but that same devilish gleam in his eyes. "We have work to do."

That gleam brought a question to her mind, about what had happened the night before. "How did you come to… you were skulking when Somial was telling the tale, weren't you?"

She found herself on the receiving end of his reproving look, a gaze full of mock anger. "Weapons," he said, pretending offense, "do not _skulk._ I was keeping watch. That my position was close enough to take note of _Tiendan_ Somial's story was merely a fortunate coincidence."

"Good enough," Karigan answered, knowing that teasing tone and letting it be… for the moment. "Well then, my lucky friend, tell me what you heard, for I was well and truly asleep… a pleasant surprise, at that. I want to know how many colleagues I'll have to _dissuade_ from using that title… or spreading tales before the proper time."

A raised eyebrow questioned her choice of words, and it took her little to explain. "Lord Governor Coutre," she said, and was grateful to see understanding bloom in her Brother's eyes. If ever there was one particular lord they did _not_ wish to learn of her close connection to the Eletian throne, it would be that one. The time for that would come soon enough… but not yet. Satisfied that he'd gotten her point, she set about checking over her travel gear while he spoke of what he'd heard.

A contemplative Somial listened to the conversation from a short distance away, deliberately repeating the Weapon's actions from the night before. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he heard a confused Karigan question the part of the tale wherein she broke Amilton's nose. Even with the memories restored, she had not yet recalled that bit of her childhood. _Of course, _he thought, _she was only three at the time… and there is precious little that anyone remembers from that young an age, even among the Elt. She may never remember that, even if some part of her knew and instinctively trusted her beloved King as much as she _dis_trusted his Veil-spawned brother._

His heart sang at the interaction between his Heart-Sister and the other brother she'd chosen… a worthy brother, indeed. He would guard her well. As the conversation between Weapon and Rider wound to a close and more members of the party rose and began the day, Somial caught his sister's eye, and remembered the question she'd asked just the day before. '_Why didn't he tell me?'_

Stepping closer to her, he spoke so that only she and Fastion could hear, voice soft, but earnest. Best to get this settled now… before more doubts grew in Liluyn's mind about the love her father had for her.

"You asked me a question yesterday, my Lady, and I answered that 'twas not a discussion best had from atop a horse. I do have my own theories on the matter, if you're still of a mind to hear them." He hated seeing the heartbreak shadow her eyes at the reminder provided by his words, and wished there was no need for them. Those eyes shimmered bright with tears that she blinked back, not allowing any to fall. _She is so strong, our Arienne-matiel. If the rest of my countrymen could see her as the Princess, and not just the mortal, so much could be resolved between us. Yes, she is mortal-born, and the Elt Wood will know the pain of that loss in far too short a time as we see things… but we've already _felt _that loss. Any time we have now – having thought her dead once – is nothing short of a true blessing from Laurelyn._

Pushing away the thoughts, Somial spoke to her again. "_Arienne-matiel,_" he said, "Princess… you asked why your father had kept this from you, why he so distrusted magic when it was what protected you." He saw her eyes and Fastion's flicker to either side, in search of ears that should not be listening.

"No one hears but the two of you," he reassured them… all the same, gesturing them toward the edge of the camp. It was better to be too cautious than not cautious enough, he knew. After a moment, he continued. "I do not believe that he _could_ tell you, my Lady. I believe the spell affected him in a way that our Prince and Princess did not believe it would. They thought your father's status as your mother's Soul-Bonded would protect him from the spell, would allow him to keep the knowledge of your true heritage. Given what you've said, and what my _tiendan _have observed of your father's reaction to magic… I do not believe he was afforded any such protection. He forgot your heritage, and so could not tell you of it." He stood as silent as they for a moment, reading a question in his sister's eyes.

"I do not know for certain," he said, sharp Eltish ears listening for any unusual sounds, "what it was that triggered those few memories which may have been left to him. I suspect that the spirit and Voice of Kaedra's Blade, knowing by its own magic the magnitude of the force moving against your Clan, managed to make some kind of basic connection to your father and in some small way break through part of the spell. It is the only way I can think of that he would have known, first, where he had placed the Blade after your mother's death… and second, that it _must go_ to you. Though," he said, shrugging, somewhat uncertain, "that is only a theory. I hope, little sister, that it is enough to ease your doubts of your father."

With some temerity, he reached out a hand to move a strand of dark hair back from her face, noting the haunted but grateful look in those blue eyes so much like her mother's. Her thanks were whispered and nearly snatched away by the breeze, but he heard clearly enough the gratitude for his words, and the unspoken relief at the thought that perhaps her father hadn't kept so much from her – deliberately – as she had thought. He drew his sister to him, dropping a kiss on her forehead much as he'd done in the glade after her battle with the creature from Blackveil. Then he dropped his hands from her and gently urged her on her way, to finish preparing for their departure.

His eyes met the Weapon's, and an unspoken vow was shared between them, to protect this woman who was a sister to both, regardless of the cost.


	14. Chapter 13

See Prologue for Disclaimer and other Author's Notes.

A/N: On the down-side, Real Life stinks and has been holding my muses hostage. On the up-side, said Life has allowed my muses a holiday furlough. I'm sorry for the wait. Chapter 14 should follow without too much of a wait, and I'm working on Chapter 3 for Haven (as well as a couple of newer stories that only my wonderful and talented beta – LdyDarkStr – has seen, so far). Enjoy.

A/N 2: 'Alric Heights' is what I've chosen to name Lord Governor L'Petrie's main estates, as KB hasn't given us a name for them in the books, as of yet.

A/N 3: I have, in the works, a Green Rider/Dragonriders of Pern crossover that appears to be (shock of all shocks) somewhat plausible (at least, I think so... but maybe I'm being arrogant). Please let me know if you're interested in reading it. (Sirius stalks away, grumbling about stubborn muses and the fact that KB just _**had**_ to mention dragons).

Chapter 13

Nethan L'Petrie looked far older than his years, even given that he wasn't a young man, and hadn't been for quite some time. Still, despite everything he'd gone through – up to and including the attempted coup two years before – he'd never seen anything like what had been done to Clan G'ladheon. He prayed to the gods that he would never see its like again.

And the children… he had no idea how to comfort the children whose families had been decimated by this butchery, how to ease the pain of this wound. The eldest of them knew what had happened, of course, but the younger ones were confused. They didn't understand that their parents would not be returning for them, and the absence of everything familiar frightened them. Uncertain as of yet how to aid these orphans in his care, his mind wandered to thoughts of the three who had continued on to Sacor City… the two eldest, with their somber manner and sense of duty, and the little one who refused to be left behind. He could only hope they'd made it safely, though he did not envy Clan G'ladheon's heir the news they carried.

He still recalled the day, not even a month before, that he had been riding near the G'ladheon manor and found himself Stevic's guest after his horse had taken a misstep into a gopher hole, and stumbled, throwing him. He'd been uninjured but dazed, and the merchant chieftain had insisted that he enjoy G'ladheon hospitality until he was once more capable of seeing straight. While Nethan had been enjoying a meal as fine as any that could be created by his own household staff, a Rider had come with news.

The nobleman smiled as he lost himself in the memories of that day. The Rider, Rider Lt. Mara Brennyn, had stated to the merchant that the delivery of this particular news was both pleasure and privilege. Grinning, she'd handed the merchant a letter, written in what Nethan believed to be the King's own hand. Stevic had been confused upon seeing how the letter was addressed, muttering that the writing was not that of Captain Mapstone, with whom he had corresponded on previous occasions. He'd broken the seal and read with haste for a time, before stopping suddenly and appearing to re-read a portion of the letter.

"A Knight," he'd whispered. "My Karigan, knighted?"

Nethan remembered being nearly as shocked as his host, for he knew his history well, and was certain that there had been no knights in Sacoridia since the Civil War. Agates Sealender had perverted the tradition, as he had many things, by over-using the practice to reward the most loyal of his thugs and pet assassins. When Smidhe Hillander took the throne, he swore that the tradition would not be used again until there was one truly worthy of the honor it was meant to be. Try as he might, the old lord could not restrain his curiosity as to what young Karigan had done to earn it. Merchant she may be, but the young woman had saved his life in that throne room; she'd saved all of them. Also, she was of his Province, and anything she did in the service of the King reflected well on him as her Lord Governor. Clan G'ladheon weren't his favorite tenants merely because of their wealth… though that certainly was no cause for grief.

As he had watched the merchant chieftain continue to read his letter, Lord L'Petrie recalled that with Knighthood came the privilege and responsibility of land ownership. As a Peer of the Realm, young Karigan could choose lands from any Province. _Perhaps, _he'd thought, _when next she journeys home, I shall see if she would have lands in L'Petrie Province as her prize. I could give her Clan G'ladheon's lands, so that she and the Clan would hold them in their own right, instead of leasing them from me, despite the detrimental effect that would have on my own wealth; G'ladheon rent is no paltry sum._

Thinking on the situation now, he doubted anyone would wish to live on those lands again. At the least, he would not expect them to be occupied any time soon, even had there been buildings left that were _fit_ to occupy. The sound of a boot heel scraping on stone drew his attention to his right, where his eldest son had seen fit to join him this dawn… two men haunted by the same ghastly sight. Waking or sleeping, it made no difference. They were given no peace, and there existed no possibility of going back to life as it was before the slaughter.

Alain's voice broke the silence. "If the children made it safely to Sacor City, we should be hearing something soon. If they did not… we cannot wait much longer before sending a messenger of our own, Father. You know as well as I that those who would do such as we have seen would not hesitate to kill three children who, merely by existing, may be an obstacle to whatever other plans they have." His voice was soft but firm, and by Alain's manner, Nethan was reassured that when he passed into Westrion's keeping, L'Petrie Province would be in good hands.

**

With Dakrias Brown set to his task, the King considered his morning well started, though he had no doubt of the long list of tasks still ahead of him. First on that list was a duty he'd given himself, and it was no chore: Check on Noah. He gestured for a still speechless Laren to walk by his side, knowing without even bothering to look that Willis stayed near, as always.

They walked in silence until they were nearly halfway to his chambers, and then only Laren's curious look prompted him to speak. "Yes, Laren, I knew… part of it, at the least. I wasn't aware of the betrothal, and Karigan thought it a daydream, wishful thinking. She told me of the connection to Santanara the morning after we'd heard of the slaughter, and renewed her Rider Oath. She thought I would doubt her loyalty to me." He shook his head, knowing there must be a look of consternation on his face. "How she could think I would doubt her… after everything she's done… She would never betray me and I know it."

He was about to continue, knowing that in these corridors he would be overheard only by Weapons, who would have known the truth before long anyway. However, as they drew nearer the King's private chambers, Zachary's ears caught a sound that made his blood run cold… a small child's scream.

Quickening his pace, and no longer caring that Laren and Willis followed, Zachary pushed through the doors of his bedchamber and turned toward the small bed that had been set up for Noah… not that the little one had spent a great deal of time in it the previous night. The signs of a nightmare were made obvious by the haunted, terrified eyes in the little face, the shaking hands that curled his blankets tightly around him, and the tears streaming down his cheeks. Zachary caught Noah up in his arms, blankets and all, and held him close, whispering words of reassurance in his ear, all the while aware of the looks coming from Captain Mapstone's direction.

It did not take long for Zachary to calm the frightened child, and once Noah's sobs had eased, Zachary – in this moment much more man than King – poured warmed water from a nearby pitcher into a wash-basin, and set about cleaning the boy's face. He was all too aware of the contents of Noah's dream, his ears still ringing with child's muffled cries for his parents. The King's own dreams would be haunted by what he'd heard the night before, and what he knew had been repeated just now. Still in the deep recesses of his mind, he heard the child's sobbing, choked and mournful, "Da?" Just as heart-wrenching were the boy's pleas for his mother not to make him leave. Zachary's eyes had shed tears as he listened to Noah in the middle of the night, screaming in his dreams for parents he would never see again. That moment or this, the pain was the same, and soothed in the same manner.

"Better now?" Zachary murmured to the boy, drying his face and holding him close again. Noah nodded, burrowing in tightly and snuggling his head under the King's chin, the small child seeking a shield against the demons of his nightmares, horrors and fears no child should ever know. Zachary walked back and forth across the room, letting the motion soothe the boy. Looking at the child, the King wondered if his parents knew they would be parted from their son while he was so very young, and that thought prompted a question.

"Captain Mapstone, when Rider Lt. Brennyn carried my letter to Stevic G'ladheon, was she aware that Karigan's leave had been canceled? Did she tell him?" The look on his Captain's face was one of confusion for a moment, but this was a question that required an answer and they both knew it.

"The leave hadn't been canceled yet when Mara left on the run, but she knew it was a possibility. She would have told him, but I can ask."

"No," he said, shaking his head, still holding tightly to Noah, "no. I'm familiar with the Lieutenant, Laren. She would have told him. I simply couldn't recall whether she would have known… and for some reason, it seems important to me to know that Stevic G'ladheon wouldn't have feared his daughter would return home in the midst of that… atrocity."

**

Karigan, mind awash in thoughts of her earlier conversation with Somial, nevertheless remained alert to the world around her. To all sides, she heard the creak of saddle leather, the rare but clearly-voiced commands of Sergeant Brexton, the thunder of hooves setting a swift pace. Beneath her was the comforting feel of Condor's own smooth and steady gait, as they drew ever closer to Lord Governor L'Petrie's main estates… and what remained of her Clan.

There had been several moments where she'd considered heading first to the lands that had been her home. Each time, she'd over-ruled the thought, though she couldn't say if she truly wished to see the children first… or if she wanted merely to delay seeing the bodies of her Clan, and her father, for that much longer.

As the group came within sight of Alric Heights, Karigan slowed Condor to an easy canter and saw that everyone followed suit. She had no intention of startling guards and provincial militia that were – without doubt – already skittish. She moved Condor through the other horses until he paced next to Sergeant Brexton's mount, noting that Fastion and Somial had moved as well, to keep their positions just to her rear and to either side.

"Sergeant Brexton," she said, with a respectful nod to the experienced and loyal soldier. "I would suggest that only a few approach the entrance to Alric Heights, and the majority of the scout group stay behind. L'Petrie's soldiers are apt to be… skittish, because of everything that's happened. It might be best if we avoid startling them." Her words were polite, and phrased as though the final decision would be the Sergeant's… even though it wasn't, and both Karigan and the Sergeant knew it.

Brexton's deep voice answered, equally courteous… and just as stubborn as Karigan knew her own could be. "A sound suggestion, Rider Sir G'ladheon, one that should be followed… so long as I accompany you to the gates… and beyond them. The King placed me in command of the scouting party, and I must hear what L'Petrie's men found."

Karigan paused a moment to reflect that this man would have made a good Weapon, before she responded with a slight, rueful smile and a tiny nod. "Good enough, Sergeant. Good enough."

Brexton's gloved fist rose in the 'halt' command, and the group slowed and stopped. Quick orders were given by Brexton – and Somial, whose keen ears had heard everything – for the majority of the party to cool their mounts. Karigan's eyes took in every aspect of the scout group and their Eletian comrades, knowing without having to ask that the group heading to gates would include – other than herself and Brexton – the Lady Estora, Connly, and her Heart-Brothers, Fastion and Somial, who would never consent to being left behind, or even the suggestion of it.

With barely another word spoken between them, the six separated from the remainder of the group, and directed their horses toward the gates of Alric Heights. On the wall above the gates, sharp eyes could see two men standing, awaiting their arrival.

To be continued... hopefully in less time than it took to get this chapter out.


	15. Chapter 14

See Prologue for Disclaimer and other Author's Notes.

A/N: No, the story's not dead – neither are any of my other Works-in-Progress – just delayed by the sheer joy that is real life. Much thanks to Lady Dark Star, my ever-patient beta and friend, for her constant encouragement. Yes, this chapter's a little shorter than others... but still in character and in-line with the plot.

I hope you find it worth the wait.

GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~

Chapter 14

Two men had watched from the shadows as the scout party left Sacor City, the morning after the Eletians had come for a visit. Soldiers, Riders, Eletians and Weapons traveling together did not bode well for Minks and his band of cut-throats, but still, he wasn't too worried… until one of Riders turned her face to the morning sun for just a moment. The sunlight gleamed off golden highlights in long, dark hair, but that was nothing. _So the Rider's a bit,_ Minks thought. _Nothing special in that. Lotsa Riders are. Weapons 'n' reg'lar soldiers, too._

It wasn't until he realized one lock – and only one lock – of hair shone the same silver-white shade as the Eletians' that he realized the woman was the Rider he and his team had been hired to kill.

_Well, I know where they're goin', I do. If we don't catch 'em on the way there, the way back'll do… an' gi' me time to get the rest o' the group together._

With a light punch to the other man's arm, Minks got his partner's attention, and they both moved down a nearby alley, heading toward one of the poorer regions of the city… where _they_ ruled as kings. Not even the Lord who'd hired them would want trouble there.

GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~

The Sacoridian raiders and the rogue Eletian archers who worked with them – _and I still don' know what 'is Lordship did to get the likes o' them to work wi' the bunch o' us_ – set out after the scout group that afternoon, the raiders having met the archers well out of the city. The archers wouldn't come into the city, and Minks understood that; they'd draw too much attention.

He knew he came off as a fool to their current employer, but his men and the archers knew a different side of him… quiet and deadly. Minks liked pain… the more he could inflict on other people, the better his day was. He had no trouble admitting that; it _was_ how he made his living, after all. It didn't mean he was stupid. He wouldn't risk his men without reason… he hated training new ones.

Minks knew the scout group would be traveling quickly, and he had no doubts as to where they would be going, but he didn't need to catch them. If there were survivors, the Rider would get them, perhaps even bring them back to Sacor City with her. And, knowing her reputation for stubbornness, he wouldn't be at all surprised if she stopped by what had once been her home. It'd be a good thing, he thought, to give her a chance to say goodbye to her Clan before he sent her to join them.

There was a bit of irony in it, really.

GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~

They made camp that night with few words passing between the raiders and the archers, just as Minks liked it. The Eletians had unmatched aim, but he didn't trust their eyes and arrows to remain focused on the target. His Lordship had told Minks that the Eletians were… reluctant… to harm the Rider. _Not that I needed to be told_, he thought. _It's downright obvious, it is. Question is… why? They didn't 'ave no trouble killing off her Clan… what's so special about her?_

"Gaelith… I'd 'ave a word wi' you, if you don't mind."

The leader of the Eletian archers glanced over at Minks, and the Sacoridian wondered again who or what had assured their cooperation. Minks was no fool; he knew Gaelith and the others would prefer killing the raiders over working with them. Gaelith's gaze was cold enough to freeze the hells, and the Sacoridian wasn't quite ready for that, yet.

The Eletian walked slowly, wordlessly marking himself as better than Minks, and when he reached the raider, a raised eyebrow was his only communication.

"You know the Rider's alive; Boss told you as much. He also told me that your group can't or won't do anythin' to her. Means nothin' to me if your bunch don't want to do no harm to the girl… so long as none of you get in the way of me or mine when we go to do what we been paid for. You gotta problem with that?"

The corner of the Eletian's mouth quirked up in what might have been amusement, had his gray eyes not reminded the raider of the sky before the deadliest of winter blizzards. Despite the tough line he'd taken with Gaelith, Minks knew the archer was not one to be crossed, and he couldn't stop the shiver of fear that slithered down his spine… or the feeling that he'd just looked into the face of his own death.

Still, he remained standing before the Eletian, waiting for an answer.

After a long pause, where Minks knew the eyes of all his men had come to rest on the two of them, Gaelith spoke. "I will do precisely as instructed, Raider… no more, no less. That will have to suffice. If it does not, I would suggest – for your own safety – keeping further doubts to yourself."

With not another word spoken, Gaelith turned sharply on his heel and strode back to his archers, leaving Minks feeling fortunate to have survived the encounter.

GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~GR~~~

Not sparing more than a thought to the raider behind him, and every thought to the _Rider_ ahead of him, Gaelith cast careful eyes over his group of archers. Many, he knew without a doubt to be truly lost to the mercies of the Wood. Exiles from Eletia, they had suffered for their poor choices… but did not regret them. Others among his group were also exiles, but felt remorse for their actions… even more so for the most recent of them.

He knew which of his people were sickened by what had occurred with Clan G'ladheon, and he took note, for they might be redeemed… at least, in some small way.

As for himself, he would have given anything to prevent that slaughter, but there'd been no time. By the time he became aware that the plan was not to frighten the Clan, but to _kill_ them, he'd not been able to do more than send a quick warning to Somial. There was no chance to save any but the most defenseless of the Clan's number, and that fault would forever be his.

He'd been sent here to monitor the Exiles, to mitigate anything they might do, to halt the actions of any among them who sought to follow Shawdell's example. With the slaughter of Clan G'ladheon, his failure was obvious. Still, he would follow what orders were given him… by his beloved and lawful King. And should any seek to bring harm to she who was the _Arienne-matiel_, they would do so only over his rotting corpse.

Staring at the road before them, Gaelith laid a hand to the hilt of the blade at his side. His own magics gave it the appearance of an archer's short-sword, but to another Wielder, the High _Tiendan's_ Blade would be impossible to mistake for anything else.


End file.
